


Star Trek: Walking Wounded

by ElleWinter



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action & Romance, Blood and Violence, Child Abuse, Dark Romance, Drama & Romance, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Ensemble Cast, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Psychological Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 18:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 59
Words: 168,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11491836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleWinter/pseuds/ElleWinter
Summary: When Captain James T. Kirk stumbles across a slaver ring running in newly-acquired Federation space, he knows it must be stopped at all costs. With the help of one of the victims, a woman named Anne Hardesty, he searches for any clue that will help him bring the perpetrators to justice, but the ultimate cost of this quest could be their sanity, their freedom, their lives, or even their hearts.Updated every Thursday. Click the little hearts for deleted scenes!Warning: This is a lengthy dark romance that involves not only explicit consensual and fulfilling sexual situations but human slavery, torture, and all the horrors that those entail. Graphic and sexual violence, sexual content, and discussions of various forms of abuse and mental illness are contained within. Despite the subject matter, I have done my best to keep it as light as possible, and descriptions of gore are limited as the focus is on the mental elements.A/N: This story is meant to be set in the Alternate Timeline, but draws inspiration from TOS and some of the Star Trek novels. It was originally supposed to be a self-indulgent pwp fic, but a story came out and I had to chase it. Enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156621134@N02/35861744686/in/dateposted-public/)  


 

 

Lieutenant Uhura touched a button, and the computer made its familiar whistle. “Hailing frequencies open, sir.”

Leaning back in the captain’s chair, Kirk studied the ship on the viewscreen before them. “This is the USS Enterprise. You are in violation of a ban on space travel in this area. Identify yourselves immediately.” The ship’s make was unfamiliar-- it looked like a cruiser that had been patched up with random bits of salvage. Kirk thought he could see part of a Romulan warbird used in place of the forward hull and a very faded Klingon Empire Emblem on the port side. Kirk held up a hand, and Uhura muted the transmission. “Ever seen anything like it?” he asked the bridge crew.

“I believe we can theorize that this is a merchant of some sort, Captain. The ship appears to be capable only of low warp speeds, due to its unique construction. It is also heavily shielded; a freighter, perhaps, carrying cargo.” Spock’s voice was as calm and unflappable as ever. 

“No response, Captain,” Uhura said.

Kirk motioned for her to open the channel again. “I repeat, this is Federation space, and you are in violation of a travel ban in this area. Identify yourselves, or we will be forced to assume you are hostile.” It was a bluff, mostly. Kirk wasn’t inclined to start a fight if he didn’t have to. This was just a shakedown mission, to get the crew used to the new Enterprise before they resumed their five year mission. He didn’t really want to break his new ship on its first mission out, but the Federation had placed the travel ban in this sector due to complaints of passenger and cargo ships being hijacked and plundered, and this ship looked likely to be one of the marauders.

The main screen suddenly lit up with an image of an Orion male, fuzzing in and out of focus. Kirk straightened in his chair. Was he Syndicate? Kirk didn’t think so. Syndicate members generally took better care of their vessels. “Enterprise, we are the freighter Sorte, on our way to Coridan for trade. As you can see, our communication systems are not functioning properly; we did not know of the travel ban.” The Orion smiled ingratiatingly, teeth flashing white against his green skin. “If you would escort us to the edge of the banned area, I would be most grateful.”

This didn’t sound right. Kirk didn’t have to look to Spock or Sulu to know that they were as skeptical as he. “Of course, Captain… what did you say your name was?”

“Tarenn. Captain Tarenn, of the Sorte.” The Orion male smiled again, and Kirk had to work to keep his expression blank. “You have my gratitude, Captain. Send your navigational information to us and we will match speeds with you. Tarenn out.”

As the screen blinked off, Kirk frowned and stood. “Something’s not right about this. Uhura, I want you to monitor all transmissions from that ship. If they send a message, I want to know where and who it’s going to. Chekov, I want a full workup of the offensive and defensive capabilities of that ship. Sulu-- keep your eye on them. If they make a break for it, we follow.”

A chorus of “Aye, Captain,” followed him as he left the bridge. He had the feeling that somehow he needed to get someone on that ship.

Hours passed with no sign of anything untoward. Kirk had retired to his quarters and was trying to lose himself in a book about the ancient west, a rousing tale of sheriffs and gunslingers by one of his favorite authors. Well-researched and even better written, the book had been up for several awards, but the author had disappeared under mysterious circumstances before accepting any of them. Normally he wasn’t much for fiction, but there was something so vivid about the world this author described and the conflicts the characters faced that Kirk couldn’t help being sucked in by it. It was like the author had really been there, camped in the sagebrush at night, sharing water with the horses, eating pemmican and stinking of woodsmoke and gunpowder. It reminded him of his last camping trip to Arizona; that had been a long time ago, but the book satisfied the itch a little.

The comm intruded on his western reverie, Uhura’s voice sounding urgent. “Captain, the Sorte has just transmitted a masked signal on a radio wavelength. I am working to decipher it.”

“Good work, Uhura. On my way to the bridge.” Kirk dropped the padd on his bed and started for the door. Why would she have been checking the radio bands? They were rarely used for a reason-- too much interference, too little chance of getting anything useful from them, far too slow for regular communications. But there they were. Uhura’s intuitions were correct more often than not; Kirk sometimes wondered if she wasn’t prescient in some degree. 

Once on the bridge, Kirk snapped, “Report.”

“The Sorte has transmitted a signal deeper into the banned area. I have been unable to identify its recipient.” Uhura’s fingers danced over the comm buttons, tweaking and tuning them, her invisible fingers raking over the spaces between the stars, searching for the unknown. “The message involves a hold on the sale of… some item.” Uhura turned to Kirk, and he could see the worry in her dark eyes. “Captain, they seem to be talking about a sentient.”

Slavery was banned by the Federation, but in some parts of the galaxy it was still a thriving practice. This space, however, was Federation territory now, recently ceded by Coridan once they had admitted that their planetary government was no longer stable or strong enough to keep its hold. The sale of sentient beings was punishable by law everywhere in Federation space. “Uhura, are you sure?” Kirk asked, his voice taut with anticipation.

“Yes, Captain. Under the circumstances, I can’t interpret the message any other way.” Uhura’s mouth was set. Kirk knew that expression. Uhura was convinced; her eyes urged Kirk to do something.

“Captain, if we board the ship, we risk breaking Federation law. One communication is not proof of wrongdoing.” Cold and calculated, Spock caught Kirk’s eye and held it. “Without a reason, we cannot board the ship.”

“Then let’s find a reason, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said immediately. This was just too shady. It didn’t make sense. “Find out where that message was sent. Make sure of the contents. Chekov, do you have the specs for that ship’s weaponry?”

“Aye, Keptain. Minimal attack capabilities, comparatively speaking. Phasers only, one at the fore and one aft. Ze ship is heavily shielded, especially in the central area. Its conformation is compatible with a trader ship. However, because of its construction, it has several veak areas and is wulnerable to shear.” Chekov turned from his console to look at Kirk. “Permission to speak freely, Keptain.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Chekov,”

“I hev noticed some irregularities in zeir deflector fields. If ve could lead ze ship into an asteroid field and conwince them to drop both shields and deflectors, it is almost a certainty zat we could create a small hull breach zat would necessitate our help vith repairs.” Chekov glanced at Spock as if waiting for condemnation.

Spock frowned slightly. “Captain, to directly damage the ship without reason would be unethical and against Federation regulations.”

Kirk watched him for a moment, noting the use of the word ‘directly’, and then said, “Mr. Sulu, can you think of any shortcuts back to unbanned space?” He and Spock might have started their relationship at odds, but years of working together meant they barely had to talk anymore. Spock had clearly just given Kirk the go-ahead.

Sulu knew what Kirk implied. “Aye Captain. Changing course. Uhura, I’m sending you co-ordinates.”

Uhura’s eyes glinted. “Transmitting new co-ordinates to the Sorte, Captain.”

Pressing a button on the arm of his chair, Kirk said, “Bones. I need a conference with you immediately.”

McCoy’s voice came over the intercom instantly, as if he’d been waiting for action. “On my way, Jim.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kirk knew he was skirting the very edge of regulations. The vaccine that Bones had said was absolutely necessary to the safety of the freighter's crew was real, the outbreak of Corellian syndrome was real, and the asteroid belt they were traveling through was a viable route. It was a matter of timing to make sure that the vaccine was beamed over at the right moment to make sure one of the asteroids hit the Sorte, and it was a gamble that it would cause enough of a hull breach to necessitate the Enterprise’s help in repairing the ship. At first, Captain Tarenn had protested that they did not need the vaccine, but McCoy’s impassioned explanation of the effects of the syndrome had eventually worn Tarenn down. His eyes shifting towards the door leading out of his ship’s bridge, Tarenn had acquiesced, on the condition that only the vaccine would be beamed over.

“Zere is a large asteroid on course for ze ship, Keptain,” Chekov said over the intercom.

Kirk eyed Scotty, and then looked to the case of vaccine sitting on the transporter pad. “Make sure your timing is right, Mr. Scott.” Standing to the side, Sulu watched impassively.

“Aye aye, sir,” Scotty said, skeptical, but he lowered his gaze to the transporter controls. “First attempt ready, sir.”

“Uhura. Transmit the request to lower shields.” Kirk shifted uneasily. He preferred a ship-to-ship battle over this subterfuge any day.

“Aye sir,” Uhura said over the intercom. There was a short wait, and then Uhura’s voice rang clear over the comm. “Shields are lowered, sir. “

“Mr. Scott,” Kirk said, but he hardly had to say the words before Scotty’s fingers were dancing over the controls.

The transporter beam glimmered weakly and the vaccine did not disappear. If the Sorte’s sensors were working properly, they would register the attempt to beam something over. Scotty had tweaked the beam so that it would appear to be sending the pattern without actually doing anything.

“First attempt complete, sir,” Scotty said when the light died away. “Preparing for second attempt.” The controls chirped softly as he undid the modifications he’d made to the beam.

“Uhura, patch me through to Captain Tarenn,” Kirk said. Once she indicated that Tarenn was on the comm, Kirk said, “Sorte, it appears your deflectors have an irregularity that’s interfering with our attempts to beam over the vaccine. If you would drop your deflectors for thirty seconds, we’ll complete the transport.”

Tarenn’s voice sounded faintly annoyed, nothing Kirk could take offense to, but still not as congenial as he had been before. “Fifteen seconds only, Enterprise. I refuse to give you any longer.”

Kirk looked at Scotty, who nodded. “That’s fine. We’ll give you the mark to drop deflectors. Enterprise out.” Uhura cut the transmission. Kirk immediately contacted Chekov. “They haven’t noticed the asteroid on course with them?”

“It appears not, sir. Vith zeir deflectors running, zey have no reason to notice it.”

Good. Now as long as the timing was right… “We’re all ready down here. Work out the timing between you and Uhura, and just give us the mark.”

“Yes, sir,” Chekov said.

The comm went dead. It took just long enough that Kirk was beginning to wonder, again, why it seemed so important to get someone onto that ship. The Sorte technically hadn’t done anything wrong, but her entire presentation and her Captain were extremely suspicious. And that message… Kirk took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts.

“Now, sir,” Uhura said over the comm.

Scotty reacted immediately. Shimmering light enveloped the vaccine and it vanished, matter transmuting to energy, form giving way to flickering motes of light.

“Ze asteroid is approaching, sir,” Chekov said over the comm. “Deflectors are still down. Zey seem unaware of the asteroid.” A moment stretched out into what seemed like a year. Then Chekov’s voice rang out again, his accent growing thicker with anticipation. “A hit, sir. Ze hull has been breached.”

“Uhura, get me Captain Tarenn.” Kirk smiled. He would get to the bottom of this. The familiar chirps of the computer indicated the open channel. “Sorte, we see that your hull has been compromised. You are in need of repair. May we assist?”

Perhaps it was only his imagination, but Kirk thought he heard resignation in Captain Tarenn’s voice. “Yes, Enterprise. We would appreciate some help.”

“Sulu, Scotty. You’re with me.” Kirk grinned at his companions and hopped up onto the transporter pad. “We’ll be there momentarily, Captain.”

The ship had rocked, the floor moving as if there had been an earthquake. In her cell, Anne had crawled into the space between two partitions, cramming herself against the bulkhead in hopes that the structural reinforcement would protect her from any further shocks. There were none. Instead she felt the air begin to rush from the room. Hull breach, most likely. Not a large one, or else she’d have been sucked towards the door along with the air rushing out of the ship. Still, not a good situation. She wrapped her torn clothes around her body and braced herself against the bulkhead with her one good arm, cradling the crooked one against her. The ship was groaning quietly. The sound grated on her nerves in a way the normal sounds of the ship wouldn’t. After so many weeks of traveling on this wreck, it was almost a relief to know that death was close enough to brush her with its withering fingers. Death would mean not having to try anymore.

But then, she heard something new. New voices. Anne strained to hear without moving from her spot. Tarenn thought her cowed, and perhaps, in servicing him, she had been-- but one word, one single word leaked through the metal doors, wisping through the bars of her cell.

_Starfleet._

Anne began to scream.


	3. Chapter 3

Away teams had been on standby. Somewhere in his mind, Kirk had known that he needed to get on this ship, that something needed his attention. And when the screams had started just past the doors at the back of Engineering, he had acted immediately, flipping his communicator open and quickly contacting the Enterprise. “Away teams to the Sorte. Lock on to my position and beam in.”

Tarenn’s ever-present smile had contorted into a rictus grin. He knew it was too late. A moment after Kirk had spoken, others materialized, phasers at the ready. Kirk himself was moving as soon as the away teams had appeared, slamming the release to open the doors where the screaming was coming from. As he saw the dirty, underfed figures cowering in cells, he snapped, “Secure the Captain.” Red-shirted ensigns moved to restrain Tarenn, and Kirk grabbed the door of the screamer’s cell and pulled. It was no use-- it was an old-fashioned mechanical lock. “Stand back,” he said to the figure in the cell. She-- judging by the pitch, the figure was probably female, he thought-- didn’t acknowledge him, just kept on screaming in that piercing, rending voice. She was wedged in between two supports at the back of the cell, however, and Kirk judged that she was far enough away that a phaser blast at the right angle wouldn't harm her. The people in the nearby cells shrank away. Kirk steadied his hand and triggered the phaser, holding the beam long enough to melt away the mechanical lock.

Grabbing the door well away from the glowing spot, Kirk yanked, and the lock splattered to the floor in a spray of melted metal. The door opened, and he went to step carefully inside the cell. The screaming figure abruptly unfolded, and before he could aim his weapon, it scrambled toward him, crashing into him so that he staggered to stay upright. Stunned, he found himself clutching her, holding her up. The woman’s screams choked off, turning into sobs, and Kirk pulled her against his chest. He could feel her bones through the flimsy rags she was wearing. She was holding one arm close, like it was wounded. “You’re all right,” he said, the words feeling inadequate. “I’m Captain Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise. If you’re here against your will, we will bring you back to our ship and Federation law will prosecute your captors. Do you understand me?”

Kirk wasn’t sure the woman even heard what he’d said for a moment, but then he heard her strangle her sobs, her voice thick and rough when it came. It was a desperate voice, one that rasped against his nerves with its very helplessness. “Yes. Yes. Please, get me out of here.”

Unwrapping an arm from her, Kirk grabbed his communicator. “Bones, we have a patient for you now and several incoming. Get your kit ready and meet her in transporter room one, and get the med bay prepared to receive the rest. Williams, lock on to her and beam her up.” Hearing the words, the woman straightened, her good hand bracing her against Kirk’s chest. “You have to step back,” Kirk said gently. “I need to stay here and investigate this ship. My chief medical officer will be with you as soon as you’re on the Enterprise.”

She nodded, her matted hair covering her face, and then reached up to brush it aside so she could look at him. “Thank you,” she said softly, moving back. Kirk couldn’t help but note her luminous grey eyes, the fine, strong bones of her face. She wasn’t pretty; her cheeks were gaunt, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She wouldn’t have been pretty anyway, all angles and hollows, her cheekbones and nose too strong, her eyes too deep-set. Her face was intriguing, though, and had he caught a glimpse of her in a bar or something, she would have piqued his interest. As she dissolved into the sparkling light of the transporter, Kirk couldn’t help but feel like her misery had somehow called him there. 

Well, if it had, good. Kirk turned to the other members of the away teams. “Find the key for these locks. We can’t risk burning the captives, and we have to get them out of there.” The ensigns got to work immediately, and Kirk went to investigate the rest of the ship.

A flurry of medical jargon, a brusque, kindly voice ordering this and that… Anne could barely keep up with it. After weeks on the Sorte, and even more months… elsewhere… she could hardly follow what was going on. The sudden return to people who took care of her and treated her gently was a shock to the system. Even the abrupt manner of the chief medical officer, McCoy, rested easier on her than the months of her captivity. He’d scowled and grumbled at her state, shooting her up with this vitamin and that supplement, scanning her continually and grousing about every little detail he found.

“Malnutrition and all these old lacerations, that badly healed break in your arm-- at least we can thank the saints they didn't touch your regulator. What were these wretches doing to you?” His scowl lightened when he saw her expression. “You don’t have to tell me. Just, hmmm. Get on the table. I’m going to give you a sedative that will knock you out while I do the rest of your physical.”

Anne shrank away, holding her arm to her chest. “Can’t you just… Can’t you scan me again?” She couldn’t help the note of panic in her voice.

The doctor pursed his lips. “Not if I’m going to heal you, no. Take the sedative. I promise, you won’t feel a thing.”

Despite her anxiety, Anne couldn’t muster the nerve to refuse. At least she would be unconscious. “You’re going to keep records, right?” The scars they’d inflicted on her, looping over her belly and breasts, running down to the cleft between her thighs, had all been given while she was awake. He’d meant to mark her as owned. She remembered that part.

“We’re gonna put the bastards in rehabilitation,” McCoy said, his face grim. He held out a small cup. “Drink it. In a minute, you’ll feel like you’re floating, and you’re going to get very sleepy.”

Hesitantly, Anne crawled up on the examination table and took the drink. She tossed it back in one gulp, then stretched out on the table, the rags of her clothing exposing parts of her scars.

In a moment, it did feel like floating. Everything was wooly and warm, deep and fuzzy. She distantly heard McCoy snap, “Get that holorecorder,” to one of his underlings, but it was far enough away that she didn’t care. And by the time they started snipping off her dirty rags, Anne was gone to some soft, dark place that held no nightmares.


	4. Chapter 4

“Thousands of gold-pressed latinum bars, hundreds of kilos of illegal substances, and ten human slaves. They were definitely meeting someone for a trade,” Kirk said, a frown creasing his forehead as he paced the conference room. “If we could catch whoever they were meeting, I’ll bet we’d find even more. Tarenn was definitely just a small fry, and not very good at it either. He’s not behind all this.”

“I would like to remind you, Captain, that our first duty is toward the victims.” Spock’s voice was a bland, emotionless reminder that Kirk couldn’t let himself get carried away. “We must get them to safety before pursuing any other leads.”

“Spock, is there any chance they could help us? Even the smallest clue would go a long ways towards breaking this slaver ring.” Of the captives he'd spoken to, none had been willing to talk, whether because they knew nothing or because they were too afraid to try. Kirk could understand, even though it frustrated him. None of them were secure enough to want to give anything away just yet-- if they even knew anything at all. If they realized they knew anything. One problem would be solved by time. The other… 

Spock caught his intention immediately. “A mind meld would be inadvisable due to the instability of the victims, and we would of course need a willing subject.”

Kirk frowned again, pacing back and forth. “But if one of them was stable enough, and willing…?”

“It’s possible that I could obtain some information, yes,” Spock said carefully. “Jim, we mustn’t be reckless with the victims. They must be our first concern for the moment. Starfleet will no doubt have other sources of information we can use.”

“Yes, yes.” Kirk turned on his heel, facing Spock. “I’ll have McCoy check their examinations over. If even one of them is strong enough--”

Spock cut in, his voice emotionless. “If that is the case, I will consider offering my services. But at the moment we have no reason to believe that any of them could withstand the pressure of a mind meld.”

“All right,” Kirk said. “I’ll notify the bridge crew to get us under way back to Yorktown base.”

Drifting up from the last seductive clutches of the sedative, Anne found herself in a comfortable bed, her body feeling clean and the scratchy rags she’d been forced to wear gone. In their place was a soft, thin nightgown. There was no one else in the room.

Suddenly panicked, she slid from the bed, her legs unsteadily carrying her to the door. Slapping her palm on the scanner, she sighed in relief as the door opened. People rushed by, barely giving her a glance, all of them in Starfleet uniforms. She stood for a moment, staring at them, and then tentatively stretched out a toe to touch the floor of the hallway.

No force field repelled her. No stunner locked her body in agony. There was nothing preventing her from leaving the room.

But where would she go? Anne stepped back, letting the door close, holding her bad arm to her chest. The bustle outside was too intimidating.

But for once, nothing hurt. She didn’t feel hungry anymore, didn’t feel the ever-present aches in her body, or that deep twinge of pain in her crooked arm. Extending it slowly, she found that it didn’t hurt. It felt weak, but it wasn’t crooked anymore. Her heart lifted. Two useful arms were better than one.

Through the nightgown, she ran her hand over her abdomen, feeling the familiar ridges there. That was… fine. They wouldn’t have known if those scars were meant to be decorative or not. Anyway, they would always be there in her head, even if the memory of that night was so awful that her mind shied away whenever she tried to recall it. The bits and pieces that did come were far too vivid.

With some effort, Anne yanked herself back to the present. Memories were as perilous as a sleeping wildcat, better left alone. Flipping the switch near the door, she quietly asked, “Computer?”

“Please state your request,” the computer said, its voice calming and somehow maternal. Anne relaxed immediately. When she didn’t respond, the computer said, “Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk wish to speak to you at your convenience.”

The Captain. Anne considered her memory of him, his bright blue eyes and thick, thunderous eyebrows, the sharply angled jaw and the lips that had thinned when he’d seen her. Something about the set of his mouth, the look in his eyes, indicated a spark of humor that had been washed over by his discovery of the slave cages. He seemed… safe, somehow. She knew the feeling was irrational; as a Starfleet captain, he likely found himself in trouble all the time. She realized the computer was waiting for her response. “Computer, are there any clothes in here?”

“There is a closet to the left of your bed,” the computer answered promptly.

The door was almost disguised; it looked like another bulkhead, except for the faint line down the middle. As she approached, it slid open. “Computer, please inform Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy that I am ready to see them whenever they wish.” The closet was full of clothes. Certainly she could find something acceptable before they got to her room. Anne reveled in the luxury of her painlessness and her cleanliness, her hair free of mats and falling around her shoulders in loose waves. Fingers sliding along the smooth cloth of the outfits, she smiled a genuine smile for the first time in months.

Outside the door to the woman’s room, Kirk and McCoy paused. “Now, don’t push her,” McCoy warned. “The girl’s been abused for god knows how long and she’ll be feeling the effects for a long time. It’s a wonder that Stockholm Syndrome never set in.”

“I’ll be careful, all right?” Kirk said, reaching for the palm scanner outside the door. It would open to him, if he needed it to, and to McCoy and Spock, but for now it just announced his presence with a little chirp.

“Come in,” a quiet voice said.

The door slid open, and Kirk stepped inside, McCoy following. The quarters he’d assigned the former slaves were the biggest he could find, shuffling willing officers out of them temporarily in order to give the victims some space and some sense of control over their surroundings. Still, he was able to take the room in at a glance. A bed sat off to the side, a small table and some chairs sitting a short ways away in front of the door. The room had windows all along the back bulkhead, the stars shining endlessly beyond them. The woman sat in the chair closest to the wall, her back to it, her body tensed as if she would leap up any moment. Kirk deliberately slowed his movements, as if she were a wild animal he was trying not to frighten, a memory gnawing at the back of his mind where he couldn’t reach it. In the dim half-light, her skin looked snow-white, her upswept hair as silvery as her eyes. It must have been some kind of optical illusion, a trick of the dim light; she looked like a character from an old black and white film.

McCoy bustled past him, walking over to the woman and lifting her hand, taking her pulse. “Now, how do you feel?”

“Much better, Doctor, although my arm is a bit weak.” She lifted her left arm, letting it hang limp.

“That’s to be expected. Your bones are still healing. Take those calcium supplements I ordered, one with every meal. Do  _ not _ forget them.” McCoy scowled at her.

“Bones, relax. We’re not here to lecture.” Kirk allowed himself a small grin, seating himself in the chair nearest to the woman.

As McCoy continued to grumble, the woman answered in her low, pleasant voice, “No, you’re not, are you? You’re here to find out what I know, and whether I can help you.”

A perceptive one. Kirk nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Anything you can tell us would be a great help.”

The woman glanced at McCoy and he subsided, curiously gentle as he let go of her arm. When she turned her attention back to Kirk, he felt the burn of those luminous eyes, as if she were touching him, memorizing him. The feeling was both unsettling and strangely inviting. “I’m not sure you want to hear what I could say. I know don’t want to say it.”

The intense focus of her gaze stilled him, as if she held him down with only that. “Whether you speak or not is up to you. But I can tell you now that Federation Justice will want explanations of what happened, in order to judge the severity of Tarenn’s crimes. If you choose to participate, it would be better to get used to speaking about it now when it’s just us, rather than going through it for the first time in an auditorium full of people.”

Her eyes held steady, her mouth soft and solemn as she thought. McCoy sat down, watching the two of them, somehow apart from what was going on between Kirk and the woman. After a few long moments, she sighed, her eyelids dropping just a little, though she never broke Kirk’s gaze. “They used me. They scarred me. And you want me to tell you about it? You don’t even know my name.”

Bones broke in, saying, “The scars can be removed. A day or two in the the med bay--”

Kirk glanced over at McCoy, the woman doing the same. It was almost startling to hear him speak, as if he’d interrupted a private conversation. “No,” the woman said, her voice soft and sad. “Whether I wear them or not, they’ll always be a part of me now. I may as well be able to see them.”

“So what is your name?” Kirk asked, feeling as if he’d done it partly to get her attention back on him. That thought seemed juvenile, but he couldn’t deny that there was something fascinating about the way she looked at people.

“Anne Hardesty,” she answered, those dangerous eyes turning back to him. “Pleased to meet you, Captain, Doctor.” She nodded to them both in turn. “Especially under the circumstances.”

“Hardesty.” Kirk frowned. “Hardesty, as in A. Hardesty, as in the writer who disappeared from Yorktown a year ago.”

For the first time, the woman was taken aback. “Yes,” she said in a small voice, looking warily at him.

“I’ve read your books. I’m about halfway through the last one.” Kirk grinned at her, hoping to ease her sudden nervousness. Why would it bother her that he knew her work? “They’re good. They deserve the awards they’ve gotten.”

“Since when do you read?” McCoy asked, scowling as if Kirk had somehow transgressed on Bones’s idea of him.

Kirk shot him an amused, exasperated glance. “There  _ is _ a brain behind this pretty face, you know.” He looked back at Anne, searching her face. She still looked guarded, wary. Better to be formal, if being friendly wasn’t working. “Ms. Hardesty, you don’t have to help the investigation, but your help would be appreciated. Do you need some time to consider?”

“No,” Anne said, still in that small voice. Her eyes, so bright before, seemed to have dimmed. “I… I want to help, but I’m not sure I can talk about it. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“That’s a problem we can help you with,” Kirk said, feeling the weight of her gaze again. The novels explained a lot. Her attention to detail, her ability to retain and express information, all of that was exactly what they needed. “If you want. If you feel you can let us.”

Anne Hardesty closed her eyes slowly, for all the world looking like she might be going to sleep. When she opened them, some of the brightness had returned, and Kirk felt his lips twitch, wanting to smile. “I will try,” she said simply.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t an optical illusion, that silver hair of hers. Now that he had her ID codes, Kirk indulged himself a little, looking up her public profile. The last picture of her on file was years out of date, but it was the same strong-boned face, more interesting than pretty. Pretty was easy, though. Anyone could be pretty in a matter of days now. The younger Ms. Hardesty had mouse-brown hair that already looked silvery, though the eyes remained the same. It seemed likely that the ordeal she’d been through in the last year had greyed her hair, or at least finished the job. Kirk found himself comparing her appearance and finding that he preferred the silver hair on her. She looked young otherwise, somewhere in her mid-twenties, so it was a pleasant contrast, and it matched her eyes. Not that his approval meant anything; she was clearly in no frame of mind to have any interest, although she seemed to focus on him and she very obviously felt secure in his presence. With others she was wary and suspicious, but far from the screaming creature that had collapsed into his arms when he’d wrenched open the cell door.

He caught a glimpse of that creature again when he had mentioned that Tarenn was aboard the ship. Her eyes had widened and she’d backed towards the nearest wall, her gaze darting to the ends of the hallway as if looking for escape routes, and Kirk again felt the tickle of a memory he couldn’t quite catch. “He’s in the brig,” he’d quickly said, her distress bothering him. “Locked away so that Federation Justice can deal with him.”

She’d paused, her arms half-raised into a defensive posture, and let that sink in. Once it had, she slowly lowered her arms, her back straightening. “Good,” she said simply. Suddenly, her teeth sank viciously into her lip, and Kirk found himself wanting to soothe her. “You’re sure he can’t get out?” she asked, her voice small and almost childlike.

“He’s guarded night and day,” Kirk replied, keeping his voice low. They were already drawing looks from the crew members passing by; the hall was crowded, especially now, at the end of shift and near the lounge. He’d intended to take her somewhere she could be surrounded by people without having to interact with them, to try to help her re-acclimate to life outside of that miserable cell.

“Good,” she said again, and then stepped forward, laying a hand on the arm he hadn’t realized he’d extended. It was a quaint gesture, old-fashioned, but it seemed right for the moment-- Kirk settled her hand into the crook of his arm the way they did in films about ancient times. It seemed natural to her too. She fell in step with him, shaking her head and visibly clearing the thought of Tarenn from her mind. “I’ve never met someone who read my books before. Well, not someone who knew I wrote them.” She glanced up at him, her long eyelashes a tangled veil between him and the meaning of her gaze. 

“Why not?” Kirk asked. He’d never learned much about A. Hardesty the author because he didn’t care. Now that he did, he’d found there was surprisingly little out there to learn. She was a very private person. There was barely any information about her anywhere, even in her profile-- no date or place of birth, no education records, no interviews, no acceptance of awards, no book readings, nothing. There were barely any mentions that she was even human, or female.

“I just wanted to be left alone to write,” she said, then flashed him a quick smile. It was the first time he’d ever seen it, and it made him feel unaccountably warm. “I’m really not very interesting.”

“I’m interesting,” he said, grinning down at her, hoping to distract her into feeling more comfortable. Maybe hoping to elicit that smile again. “I drove a Corvette Stingray off a cliff when I was eleven.”

Anne’s reaction was better than he’d expected. Her eyes widened, brightened, and she sank in closer against his arm. “You have to tell me about it,” she said urgently. “You absolutely have to.”

“I thought you only wrote Westerns. Classic cars don’t fit in with those.” This was getting suspiciously close to bantering.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the person that matters.” Suddenly, she looked away. “Not that I would go and put you in a book. I don’t do that. But… understanding why people do what they do…”

“I can see that in your work. Bones was right, I’m not a big fiction reader. Your characters are all so believable, though. Someone left one of your books with me once, and I was bored, and then I got hooked.” That someone had been a one night stand. He didn’t think he’d mention that part. “You could write me in as a character. I wouldn’t mind.”

She smiled again, and this time it was more than just a fast grin. It was a little dazzling, when paired with those amazing eyes on him, searching him. “No, I couldn’t. I could never understand you well enough to get you exactly right, and it would be a disservice to both of us. A character who would drive a car off a cliff would have been fearless as a child.” She paused, sobering. “Or fearful. But I wouldn’t try to apply that character to you.”

This had gotten very personal very abruptly. Kirk had the feeling that this was the level Anne normally operated on, this intense intimacy. It even felt strangely comfortable, as if he could tell her whichever it was and it wouldn’t matter. “That’s good to know,” he said, a smile touching his lips. “Fearful isn’t exactly how I’d choose to be thought of.”

“I’m not sure I  _ could _ think of you that way. You rescued me.” Her arm tightened on his briefly, and then she pulled her gaze from his, looking around as they walked into the lounge. If she pressed a little closer against him, he had sense enough to know that it was because she was anxious.

They didn’t exactly cause a stir as they walked in; the Enterprise was a community, and being aboard ship for years with the same crew meant that it was fairly well known that he had a taste for female company. Still, there were some looks, probably because Anne wasn’t wearing a uniform. Today she’d chosen a dark grey dress that covered her from the neck down but clung just enough that it looked sharp instead of dowdy and wholesome. He’d never seen her wearing color, only black and white and shades of grey. With her silver hair always pinned up and her pale skin, she looked like she might have stepped out of an ancient photograph but for the pink of her lips. 

Kirk led them to a table in the high-ceilinged room, one where they would have a good view of everyone else and a quick escape route toward the doors. Not that it was necessary… but he’d seen the way she positioned herself, always with her back to a wall, always with a view of anyone approaching. Survivor’s traits, learned the hard way. He wasn’t about to try to pry them away from her.

The corner table was also near the windows, with a pleasant view of a nearby nebula. Kirk drew out a chair for her, the one directly in the corner, and then sat down next to her. He too liked to have a good view of his surroundings. Over in the far corner of the room, Uhura was listening to Chekov talk animatedly about something, but not listening so hard that she failed to notice Kirk. She gave him a skeptical look, raising her eyebrows, and Kirk just gave her back a half-grin.

A server started toward them, but Kirk waved her off for the moment. Anne was watching him again, her silvery gaze seeming to strip him of pretenses. How could her eyes be that intense? Maybe she wasn’t fully human. “Why are you spending time with me?” she asked suddenly. “I know you have other responsibilities.”

It was true. He was taking time out of his schedule for her. It wasn’t as if he always worked around the clock, but the ship never slept, and so sometimes neither did he, depending on the amount of action they had seen or were expecting to see. Still, he’d made time to stop by and see her every day for a little while. There was a week left until they reached Yorktown; towing that old clunker made the going very, very slow.

It would have been dishonest, though, to conceal that he was trying to make her more comfortable, to help her so that he, or Spock, could pick her brain for information. “Part of it is because having you comfortable with me could make my job a lot easier. As soon as we reach Yorktown and drop off our cargo, someone will be sent back out to scout for the other ship the Sorte was communicating with. If you can tell me what you know, it'll be easier for them to find that ship.” Kirk felt himself grin a little. “The other part is that you’re interesting.” He let that hang in the air, not following it up with any explanation.

“Oh,” Anne said, looking a flustered. “Oh, no, I’m not. I put everything interesting into my writing.”

“That doesn’t mean you lose it. In fact, I think that makes you even more interesting.” Kirk felt his grin widen.

She couldn’t find an answer to that; she fidgeted and glanced at him and then away again, searching for words. After a moment or two, Kirk decided to take pity on her, and waved the server over. The woman appeared immediately, smiling at the two of them. Anne looked a little lost. “Do you know what you want?” Kirk asked. “If not, I can order for you.”

“I… I usually cook for myself,” Anne said slowly, as if brushing the dust from an old and valued trinket. She looked up at the server. “Sashimi, please. No cuttlefish, but anything else is fine.”

The decisive tone in her voice seemed like a flare-up of her old self, before her abduction. Kirk settled back in his chair, watching Anne thoughtfully. Who had she been before captivity? “I’ll have the same. And I know you have some real sake there. We’ll have it heated, please.”

The server nodded and moved away through the crowd. The decisiveness evaporated, and Anne was again the half-wild creature, her eyes making quick darts between him and the rest of the room, watching for threats. “You cook your own food?” Kirk asked, curious. “Is that a hobby?”

“I suppose,” Anne replied. “It’s also the inevitable result of growing your own garden.” She gave him a sheepish look. “Really, it’s not that interesting. I garden. I read a lot of books. I travel, as much as I can. I cook. I mostly keep to myself.”

“But when you talk to people, you have them spilling their life story within seconds, don’t you?” Kirk met her gaze and held it, wondering if this gamble would pan out. “And I’ll bet you have friends in every place you’ve ever visited. You’re that kind of person.”

He could tell he’d hit the mark by her flinch, and regretted that he might have hit it too well. “Am I?” Those eyes were almost pleading. “Am I still that person?”

Kirk couldn’t answer immediately. A trite answer would have been insulting. “I don’t know. You’ll have to find out yourself.” He smiled briefly, despite the subject. “I think you are.”

It shouldn’t have had the effect on her that it did. Her eyes calmed, her body relaxing back into the chair. “If you think so, you are probably right.” Her lips curved in a smile that was not entirely humorless. “Starfleet captains aren’t allowed to be wrong, are they?”

“No, they’re not.” Kirk said, liking her inclination to banter. “It’s part of the job description.”

“That’s very reassuring.” Anne said, clearly only half-joking. 

The server returned with the sashimi and sake, as well as a few little mochi balls with cherry leaves embedded in the top of them. “Our compliments, Captain,” the server said, flashing him a brilliant smile. Kirk wondered if he had done something to merit this; normally, the dining staff treated him the same as any of the other crew. Maybe they thought this was something less serious than it was. Shrugging it off, he picked up his chopsticks and pretended not to watch Anne eat.

It was almost as if at first her hand didn’t quite work properly; he saw the frown that creased her forehead and the concentration that she had to apply to make sure she had her grip on the thin salmon strip. Almost immediately thereafter, however, her skill came back, and she handled her food with the same delicate grace that she brought to everything else she did. Her eyes closed at the taste, as if shutting out all other sensations to concentrate on the freshness of the fish, the umami of the soy sauce and the sharp burn of wasabi. The food synthesizers did best with simple dishes; the fish was delicious.

After a few moments, Kirk asked, “Could you make this?” Making food was something he was used to thinking of as the province of professional chefs, the kind that made sustenance into art.

“This?” Anne looked critically at the sashimi. “It’s possible. But it would take a long time for me to source the right ingredients, and my knife work isn’t up to this sort of precision.”

“Knife work?” To Kirk, this sounded vaguely subversive, although he knew that she meant something other than violence.

“Using the knife. It’s more complicated than it seems. Have you ever tried to cut fish so that the pieces are all the same size and shape and thickness?” Anne watched with amusement as he shook his head. ”I've tried, before. It never turned out very well. It takes a lot of practice.”

“What do you like to cook?” Kirk asked. This whole idea was relatively novel to him. He’d camped and fished before getting into Starfleet, of course, and he’d been top in his class when it came to survival, but habitually cooking food from scratch was something of an oddity now that synthesizing food from soy and algae was so much easier.

“Lots of different things. Mostly I just try to make the best use of what’s in season. You know, fresh vegetables and fruits. I like fresh eggs and meat and milk, when I can get them, but they can be harder to find.” She smiled wryly down at her plate, pushing around a piece of perfectly cut snapper. “It’s not that I mind synthesized food. I just… I have to be making things. Anything.”

Kirk leaned forward in his chair, intrigued. “My mother used to bake cakes for me on my birthday, but that’s as close to real cooking as I ever got.” A sudden thought came to him, and he found himself voicing it before he could consider it. “Would it help to be able to make something on board the Enterprise? We don’t have the facilities for cooking, but I’m sure I could find something.”

Anne’s expression brightened immediately, her eyes looking so wide and hopeful that it was almost painful to see. “Could you, please? I need something to do, something to make. I’ve tried to write, but…”

Kirk caught the deeper meaning of the flash of fear in her eyes. “It’ll come back. You’ve been away from it a long time.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so instantly protective of someone. Perhaps it was because of the things she’d alluded to, the horror she’d been through. It wasn’t right that someone this open had been subjected to that nebulous torture she’d intimated.

Carefully, Anne sipped her sake, and Kirk watched her eyes narrow a little at the faint burn of alcohol. “I’m trying. And I’m trying to talk, alone, just in recordings.” Setting down her cup, mouth soft and faintly wet with sake, she shook her head as if to clear it. “How do I make them available to you? Right now they’re set as personal, and encrypted.”

Leaning back in his chair, Kirk considered the offer. It seemed like a misstep to listen to her personal logs, even if he needed whatever evidence might be in them to bolster the charges against Tarenn and his crew and to catch whoever it was that they’d been meeting. It would be a window into her privacy, and he would be an intruder, watching her. The last thing he wanted to do was invade her private space. He knew from the psychology classes at the Academy that she’d be more sensitive to that sort of thing.

“I’m not sure it would be wise for me to have access,” he said finally. “I appreciate that you’re willing to share them, but you should have something of your own, something no one can touch.” An idea sparked in his mind. “Could you talk if it was just to me? If we were in your quarters, say, just a conversation between friends.”

Those luminous grey eyes turned to him, and he felt the weight of her gaze again, as if it was a feathery pressure on his skin. It was damn near palpable. “Are we friends?” she asked, the simplicity of her tone underlining the complexity of the question.

Again, Kirk couldn’t give her a trite answer. Those eyes deserved truth. “No. Not yet.” Suddenly he grinned. “But if you give me any more chances, I think we will be.”

Kirk’s unbidden warmth towards Anne flared higher when he saw her smile, a real smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes and showed what would have been a dimple if she hadn’t been so terribly thin. “You definitely have a chance,” she said, the weight of her gaze still feeling like feathers on his skin. “More than a chance.”


	6. Chapter 6

Anne had to still the trembling of her hands as she finished repairing the last phaser of her shift. It wasn’t essential work, but that suited her at the moment; she wasn’t sure if they could depend on her yet. Captain Kirk had spoken to the Chief Engineer, Montgomery Scott, and together they had decided that this was the closest she would get to making things on the ship-- fixing phasers that had burnt out during drills. The Captain was very firm about his crew being combat-trained; Anne wondered if there wasn't a specific reason for that.

The work was perfect, though, exactly what she needed. Taking broken things and making them whole soothed her mind. As the hour turned to 2000, Montgomery Scott came through the door that led to Main Engineering. “There you are, lassie. Ye’ve made a splendid job of it. My thanks for freeing up Keenser; he was fussing about the backlog. Ye’ll have these done before we reach Yorktown.”

Anne wished he wasn’t being so friendly. It made her nervous. She knew a fair bit about the psychology of the violated; Scott was trying to make sure she felt at ease, to give her a sense of safety. It worked, yes, but she knew that at least some of his friendly demeanor was orders from Captain Kirk, so it felt… off. Fake. She tried to respond in kind despite that feeling; Scott was only trying to help her. “It’s good to be doing something useful. And it’s good to be working with my hands.” She looked down at her burnt and scratched fingers with satisfaction. “Thank you, Mr. Scott, for giving me something to work on.”

“No trouble at all. Ye’re a quick study, and a steady hand.” Mr. Scott grinned at her, then gestured to the door out into the rest of the ship. “Go have yerself a drink. Relax. Ye’re off shift now, with no one to answer to but yerself.”

That felt more real; Scott’s smile looked genuine. Anne felt herself respond in kind, a smile rising to her lips. “I will, I think. I’m to come here tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, lassie, and we’re glad to have you. Now go.” Scott shooed her away from the rack of phasers, “Ye’ll have little enough free time working for me. Use it.”

Anne let herself be ushered to the door. As it slid closed behind her, she realized just how well Scott’s warm demeanor had worked. Out of his presence, she felt a little cold, as if she’d stepped out of the circle of warmth of a bonfire. The hallways were still intimidating, full of crew members on miscellaneous errands. She knew the way back to her quarters, but it was still an effort to step into that flow of people, letting herself follow along with the uniformed, purposeful others as if she belonged there.

A turbolift and a few hallways later, she was back at her quarters. Her excellent memory kept her from getting lost in the immense ship. As she walked through the door, she considered her invitation to Captain Kirk. He would be showing up at or near 2045, and the idea was that in the privacy of her quarters, with someone who could be a friend, she would start unloading her remembrances of her time on the Sorte, with an eye to what questions the court would ask.

Anne didn’t relish the idea. It was easier to pretend that nothing had happened, that nothing was wrong, as if it had all been just a bad dream. The thought of remembering was frightening. She’d have to relive the Sorte, and once she was comfortable they’d move on to the awful things that had happened before, the ones her thoughts darted away from like starlings from a kestrel.

But the Captain… could be a friend. And he would listen without judging her for what she’d had to do to survive, at least this part of it. Somehow she knew that in his case, the consideration was not a construct meant to make her comfortable, but a genuine wish to support her.

Anne wondered if he made a habit of being the proverbial knight in shining armor, charging in to rescue the helpless.

But he was about to arrive, and so she quickly washed up, re-pinning her hair so that it wouldn’t fall into her eyes. She didn’t like it hanging loose anymore. It got caught too often.

When Captain Kirk arrived, only moments after the clock had flicked over to 2045, Anne was sitting at the table, her hands folded in her lap. She felt as if she looked demure in her white dress, like a girl from the times she wrote about, when modesty was required for women. It was completely at odds with the things she was supposed to say.

Captain Kirk’s eyes didn’t roam over her before he spoke. He looked her in the eyes, holding up a bottle full of dark liquid as the doors slid shut behind him. “I thought this might make things easier. I’ve been told it’s a good vintage. I’m not a wine person myself, but it seemed like the sort of thing you’d enjoy.”

Anne felt her eyes widen in surprise, and a smile came unbidden to her lips. “How thoughtful of you. I haven’t had any decent wine since… since before.” The thought of before sobered her a little, but it didn’t damp the kindling warmth she felt, the sense of safety that came with his presence.

Punching in the order for red wine glasses at the synthesizer, Kirk grabbed them and came to sit opposite her at the table. Setting the wine glasses in front of them, he extracted the cork from the bottle and poured them both a healthy slug of wine. “Have you eaten?” he asked.

“No,” Anne answered, a little confused. This wasn’t exactly a dinner date.

“Good. It’ll hit you a bit harder on an empty stomach.” Kirk smiled, and Anne felt herself respond automatically, smiling back. What was it about him that made her feel safer, happier? She could have put it down to the fact that he’d been the one to open her cell door and set her free, but it seemed stronger and more basic than that. “I thought it might help to be just a bit blurred.” He paused, and she could see under his calm surface that he was unsure of her reception of his next words. He said them despite his uncertainty, and Anne felt her spark of warmth burst into real affection. “I know I’d like to be a bit blurry hearing it.”

How could she answer that, with her feelings all rushing to the surface? The fear, the affection, the disgust for herself and the anger she’d so carefully buried… it took more than a few moments to marshal her wits, and while Kirk watched her with the same unflappable surface calm, she saw him tensing, waiting for her to reject his words. How could he know that those words were exactly what she’d needed to hear?

“I think that chance just paid off for you,” Anne finally said, reaching for the wine glass. “Actually I’m sure of it.” She wondered if he would connect that to their conversation about friendship, and then decided it didn’t matter.

While he mulled that over, Anne swirled the wine in her glass and let the smell of it wash over her. It promised rich, bright berries bursting through an acidic haze. She preferred wines with a darker note to them, but this one was more than adequate for the moment-- in fact, it was kind of remarkable that he’d chosen so well without any experience. Or so he claimed.

“So we’re friends, then?” he asked, and Anne couldn’t help but respond to his teasing, boyish half-grin. It was sort of flattering that he knew exactly what she’d meant with a minimum of thought. In another life, she might have seen that as encouraging.

“Yes, I think so.” Despite the gravity of the subject they were approaching, Anne found herself smiling. She sipped her wine appreciatively, noted him noticing her appreciation, and then regretted that she had to bleaken things so quickly. But it was best done now, before she could hesitate. “The first thing I remember about being traded to Tarenn is feeling like I was about to throw up. I woke up that way, being jostled around, feeling sick, wondering why I couldn’t see anything. They’d put me in a bag, a cloth bag, like a body-bag. I couldn’t tell where I was. When they finally brought me out...” She ground to a halt, her lips unwilling to form the words.

Looking up at Kirk, she saw the interest in his expression, the level-headed side of him that knew she might say something of use to him. But she also saw the knight in shining armor, the budding anger at the way she’d been treated, the suppressed horror of the things to come, and most clearly, the desire to make it all right somehow.

So, when he said simply, “I’m listening,” Anne couldn’t stop the small, sad smile that reached her lips. And she continued to speak.

* * *

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/164298450301/walking-wounded-deleted-scene-1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in finding out how that conversation went, [I've got that up on my tumblr](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/164298450301/walking-wounded-deleted-scene-1). It doesn't belong in the main narrative, and it doesn't stand on its own as a short story, but I did like how it turned out. Feel free to follow me and keep me company there too; it's pretty barren right now, but that will eventually be where I post projects that can't go on AO3 (and I'm lonely, I have 0 followers as of the publishing date lol).


	7. Chapter 7

Anne swallowed hard, then tried to make herself step out of her room and into the hallway. The Doctor wanted to see her. She had to leave. But the thought of all those people… what if someone spoke to her? What if they noticed something was wrong and watched her? Anne walked away from the door, toward the windows, and tried to make herself turn around to try again. Doctor McCoy needed to see her. She had to go to the med bay.

After a solid ten minutes of trying to leave, Anne admitted that she couldn’t make herself do it, not today. Gently touching the voice access switch on the wall panel nearest her, she said, “Computer, please notify Doctor McCoy that I will not be coming to the med bay.” Her voice sounded faint and reedy, insubstantial.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already been out today… but the message had been a surprise, and she’d already come home from the little repairs room where hardly anyone bothered her, and she hadn’t been expecting to have to leave. It had caught her off-guard.

So too did the chime indicating that someone wanted to speak with her, although it really shouldn’t have. “Ma’am, I need you here to run some more tests and make sure that your vaccinations are up to date. You were gone while Correllian was tearing through the galaxy, and we don’t know how it’ll interact with your insulin levels.”

Anne tried to answer, but couldn’t think of what he wanted her to say. Well, she knew what he wanted her to say-- he wanted her to say she would come in. She couldn’t. But she couldn’t make herself say that either, in case he got angry. She knew he wasn’t supposed to, but  _ what if? _

“Ma’am?” the doctor asked.

Instead of answering, Anne just closed the communication channel, blinking back the tears that had risen to her eyes. Taking a few deep breaths, she went and sat down on her bed, pulling over a padd that had some books on it. She started one, but by the time she’d read the first sentence she’d already forgotten the title, and she kept reading the same two paragraphs over and over.

“Medical override, McCoy, authorization code two three kappa one A phi.”

Anne shrank closer to the wall, dropping her padd. She should have expected him to come. If she was acting erratically, it was his job to investigate. Still, his presence frightened her. There was no one to see what went on here. This sort of situation had gone so badly so many times that she couldn’t keep her mind from bolting back to it.

...although Kirk hadn’t set that off last night when he’d been here, even when she’d been talking about what Tarenn had done to her. But then, she couldn’t imagine him capable of anything like that. Not that she thought the doctor was, of course. Just...

“Let’s have a look at you,” Doctor McCoy said briskly, popping his kit open and grabbing a scanner as he approached the bed. His manner was brisk, impersonal, professional-- Anne began to calm down a bit as he ran the scanner through the air in front of her. “Bad day, huh? Well, it’s to be expected. You can just say so, you know. I may not be specialized in this field, but I’m not boneheaded enough to think you’re fine just because you’re not falling apart the way the others are.”

“How are they?” Anne asked weakly. They’d been taken aboard on their last run from Coridan, so she didn’t know them particularly well, but the man in the cell next to hers had spoken to her a few times.

“They’re adjusting.” McCoy paused. “Badly.” He put the scanner back into his kit, then beckoned her to the edge of the bed. Anne immediately felt guilty-- he’d had to lean halfway over the thing to get at her. As she moved, McCoy continued, “Maybe you can help with that, if you’re willing.” He held a hand in front of her face as if to touch it, waiting for her nod before he began to examine her eyes, turning her face this way and that, checking beneath her lower eyelids. “Would it be kinder to let them share rooms? We’d given them single quarters for the time being, but I’m worried that it’s too isolating.” He laughed grimly. “You’re the only one who will voluntarily come out at all.”

Anne had to think. She didn’t know them very well, but… “Akiva and Chaya were bought together. I don’t know whether they’re siblings, friends, or something else. They used to talk to each other.” After some more consideration, she added, “If you have any rooms set up to share a common room for food and entertainment, that would be best. They can choose privacy if they want, then.”

“Just for those two?” McCoy asked, pulling a little rod with a glowing blue light near the top out. “Watch the light.” He began to move it back and forth in front of her face. It looked like he was watching the way her eyes tracked.

“No, sorry. All of them. Akiva and Chaya should share a room.” Anne watched the light pass back and forth, trying to ignore that he was scrutinizing her so closely. At some point, she’d stopped being frightened. Maybe it was because he was so quintessentially a doctor. “It would be best to find out their relationship to each other, if you can.”

“To be frank, I don’t know if that’s possible. None of them will speak to me for very long,” McCoy said, then put the little light away. “All right, legs over the edge here. I’m going to test your reflexes.”

Anne obeyed, frowning a little. She hadn’t thought they’d been that bad. “Maybe… Hmm. A Betazoid would be able to tell without them having to talk, or... Vulcans can’t lie. They might trust a Vulcan more. Or maybe the Captain.” She felt her lips turn up in a ghost of an ironic smile. “He’s easy to talk to.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that your bad day is happening after he spent god knows how long last night badgering you for information,” McCoy said darkly, tapping at her knee with a little rubber hammer.

Surprised, Anne said, “Oh… I hadn’t thought…” Her heart suddenly plummeted. “I suppose… If you think it’s putting me at a disadvantage, I can tell him not to come tonight.”

McCoy was silent for a few moments, glancing up from his tests to look her in the eyes every so often. Finally, he heaved a sigh. “Don’t look so down in the mouth. If you’re comfortable around him, that’s a good thing. I’d rather have you talking to someone than spending all your time by yourself, even if it’s harder on you. Did you go to work today?”

“I did. I just… I thought I wouldn’t be seeing anyone, just Jim, once I got into my room. Your message surprised me.”

Anne thought she saw a little flicker of skepticism when she said Kirk’s name, but he brushed it off. “Unfortunately, I can’t send you messages through the internal system. That’s fleet-only. I’ll try to make sure you know first thing in the morning if I need you, though.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Anne said quietly.

He began to pack up his tools, stopping only to shoot her up with a hypo of something he said was a vaccine. It stung, but nothing else. Once he was finished, he stood up straight, folding his arms and fixing her with a very serious look. “Jim’s a good guy, but he’s a bit… goal-oriented. If he starts pushing you, you call me, and I’ll chase him off. It’s not the world’s worst idea, what he’s doing, but it’s not the best either.”

“He’s been very kind,” Anne murmured softly, looking away. “He hasn’t pushed me.” She smiled humorlessly. “I feel like having to hear me talk is pretty hard on him. He said it’s nothing compared to living it, but…”

“Don’t you worry yourself about him. If you’re talking about it for his benefit, the least he can do is hear you out.” He uncrossed his arms, picking up the kit bag. “But if I’m right, he’s going to be off-shift soon, so you might as well get ready. And remember, if you need me, you just give me a call through the voice access system. You’ve got priority, you’ll get through.”

That felt so much sooner than Anne had thought, but… but that wasn’t a bad thing. It would be easier to talk tonight. Probably. “Thank you, Doctor,” Anne said again.

Doctor McCoy passed through the door without a backward glance, his steps brisk and businesslike. The night before, when Kirk had left, he’d lingered a bit. “You sure you’re all right?” he’d asked, looking dissatisfied, unsettled. Their talk hadn’t been easy on him; he hid it well, but Anne had seen him growing steadily more horrified and angry the more he heard. The worst had been when she’d handed the padd back to him after marking down the places to look for medical evidence of her violation on the Sorte’s bridge; she’d seen his brows suddenly slam together when he looked at her notations, the muscle in his jaw flexing. It had only been for a moment-- she might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching-- but it was definitely there. He’d shoved it away almost immediately, and when he looked up at her she’d only seen a faint echo of it.

That felt… good. She was long past being able to be angry about it on her own behalf, but it felt good that someone was. Especially someone who watched her so carefully, not prying, but trying to make sure that he could respond immediately to whatever he saw on her face. It wasn’t like being watched by someone who didn’t know her; she knew she wasn’t being judged.

She wasn’t afraid of Jim. She wasn’t worried about what he thought of her. He was on her side, completely, without needing to be convinced. It showed.

When he’d hesitated at the door, making sure she was all right, Anne's heart had lifted in spite of the talk they'd just had. And when he saw her smile, he’d smiled back. Having to remember the things that had happened wasn’t as awful as it could have been, not when she was treated like she mattered, like her thoughts and feelings meant something beyond just an annoyance or a cute but meaningless trick that a pet had learned.

So when, instead of the chime of the door, the ship shuddered as if struck, Anne knew that she couldn't just hide in her room. Even if it frightened her, she had to find a way to help.

The Enterprise rocked, her inertial dampeners struggling to compensate for the forces around them. Within moments they stabilized and Chekov’s voice rang out on the bridge. “Keptain, zey’re firing again!”

“I’ve intercepted some of the communications between the two ships, but they’re encrypted. We’re working on it,” Uhura said, her lips pressing together in a thin line and her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the data.

The red alert sirens blared, and Kirk tensed, watching the two smaller ships on the main screen. So far their attack had done no serious damage, but they were definitely targeting the Enterprise’s tractor beam, trying to disable it so that they could take the Sorte. “Fire all phasers on target one, at will. Aim to disable the ship.”

“Aye aye, Keptain,” Chekov said, his hands dancing over the controls. Light lanced out at the Orion scout ship, pummeling its shields. Chekov kept the barrage going, trying to break through the shielding and reach the ship itself.

The Enterprise shuddered again, hit by more phaser fire. If they hadn’t needed to protect the Sorte, they would have won this battle handily, but powering the tractor beam on top of the extended shields and phasers weakened them just enough that this battle was dicey. Kirk considered his options, flipping through tactics in his mind. Keeping the Sorte crippled them. Release the Sorte and let it drift? Let them take it and then harry them until they surrendered? Probably the best tactic; they’d have more power available without the Sorte draining resources. “Release the Sorte,” he said.

“But Keptain, ve’ll have to lower our shields,” Chekov protested.

“Time it right, Mr. Chekov.” Kirk scowled at the screen. There was something more to this attack that he wasn’t understanding. These two ships were too weak to take on the Enterprise at full power, and they had to know that. It didn’t add up right.

Spock knew it too. “I believe this to be a ruse, Captain,” he said.

“Yes, but why?” Kirk asked. “What are they after?” It wasn’t like they could get away with the Sorte in tow. This attack didn’t make sense.


	8. Chapter 8

Anne heard the announcement. Two ships were attacking. The red alert sirens blared, and everyone was rushing around, going to their battle stations. It was overwhelming; she wasn’t able to move for a few moments, just standing near the bulkhead in one of the halls, watching all the fuss while her mind scrambled to find some way to help.

Two ships. Why two? Her mind worried at it, distracting her, keeping her paralyzed. Finally, with a gasping, painful shock, a memory tore through her. She knew she had to move, had to contact Kirk somehow. She’d been through this before, on the other side. The two ships would harry the Enterprise, getting her to lower her shields to release the Sorte or just pummeling them until they could take no more. When the shields were down a small team of mercenaries would cross over and bore an entrance into the hull. The Enterprise was too large to take over, but it held all the goods they’d confiscated, as well as the prisoners. Tarenn. Anne shuddered, shaking off her immobility, and ran to the nearest voice access control for the computer. “Computer, I have a critical message for Captain Kirk,” she said.

As she expected, the computer politely denied her request, as she didn’t have Starfleet rank or clearance to interrupt him during a red alert. When she asked if she could go to the bridge, that was also denied.

Frustrated, Anne started moving, heading toward Engineering. It was the one place she knew she had clearance for.

Engineering was a carefully controlled pandemonium. Anne shrank away when the door opened, but forced herself into the whirl and bustle, searching for Scott among the catwalks and tanks. When she finally heard his brogue, she almost ran to him, bumping into ensigns and lieutenants, her heart pounding.

He noticed her immediately. “Lassie, ye need to leave,” he started.

“I know what the ships are doing,” Anne blurted. “Captain Kirk needs to know.”

Scott looked skeptically at her, but said, “Go on.”

It all came out in a breathless rush. “There’s a boarding party waiting to get on the ship. If the shields are lowered, even for an instant, they’ll short out the sensors and cut through the hull. The ships and the Sorte are just a distraction. They’re trying to get at the cargo or the prisoners.”

Alarmed, Scotty flipped open his communicator and said into it, “Kirk, your lassie says there’s a boarding party drilling through the hull. They got behind our shields when you dropped them to let the Sorte go.”

Kirk’s voice came through the communicator, smaller and a bit tinny, but even the sound of it slowed her racing heart. “Find them, Scotty. I’ll get security teams to the brig and the cargo hold.” He’d known immediately what the boarding party would do.

“Should we alert the crew?” Scotty asked.

“I’ll take care of that.” Kirk’s voice was determined. “Kirk out.”

Scotty flipped his communicator shut. “I’ll have to recalibrate the sensors to account for the short, but if there’s a hull breach the Enterprise will warn us.” He motioned to Anne. “Go, lass. Ye’ll be in the way here.” His dismissal was kind, but firm.

Anne nodded, fading back between the rushing workers. She could only think of one thing she could do to help out. She knew the layout of the ship, mostly, and knew that she was nearer to the brig than the cargo hold. It would only make sense to go there, to make sure that the security teams were watching, and that way she would know what was happening in time to do something about it. Her mind racing, she slipped into the repairs room. No one was there. Taking one of the phasers she had repaired, she quietly left the room, through the door out into the hall rather than back into Engineering. She knew what she had to do, even if the thought made her feel sick.

New sirens blared, and the computer announced, “Hull breach on deck 31.” Kirk swore under his breath. Anne had been right.

“All hands, arm yourselves. We have been boarded on deck 31.” Kirk looked to Chekov, who’d recently been rotated into the security roles. “I need you here. We still need to fight off these ships.”

Chekov nodded. “Sir, I vill delegate control of the security team--”

“I will take control of the security teams,” Spock interrupted. He had already taken a phaser rifle from the rack. Nodding to Kirk, he said, “It is unnecessary for you to try to fight this battle on both fronts. I will handle the boarders.”

Kirk nodded. “Go.” The ship shuddered as another barrage of phasers hit the shields. Turning his attention back to Chekov and Uhura, Kirk asked, “How close are we to breaking through their shields?”

The security team had not yet reached the brig by the time Anne arrived. The two officers on duty were armed and alert; their phasers were trained on her as soon as she opened the door. “It’s all right,” Anne said, dropping her phaser and lifting her hands. “I’m not one of the boarders.” Leaning over to the voice access terminal, she flipped the switch. “Computer, please confirm that I am a passenger on the Enterprise.”

“Identifying: Anne Hardesty, Enterprise passenger, Engineering privileges granted by Captain Kirk.” The computer’s maternal voice was clear and firm.

“You still shouldn’t be here,” one of the officers said. “They could be here any moment.”

“Is that you, prima donna?” called a taunting voice from inside the cell. “You know what I’ll do to you if they get me out.”

Tarenn. Anne froze halfway through stooping to get her weapon, knowing that she’d put herself into this situation, knowing that she had to react. She felt the blood drain from her face, fear and anger warring for supremacy. “I’d kill you first,” she spat, her hand tightening on the phaser as she stood.

“Where’s my obedient little girl?” Tarenn asked, laughing. “Have you finally--”

The door slid open, and several men in vacuum suits charged in, weapons drawn. “Drop your phasers,” the man in the lead said.

Both the officers and Anne dove for cover-- the brig had been designed to repel an attack, so there was only the one entrance and there were armored, waist high computer banks to crouch behind. Anne made sure she was safe behind one of them before peeking around to the side and snapping off a quick shot. The other officers were doing the same.

There was a flurry of phaser fire, and Anne saw one of the mercenaries go down. Their suits gave them some protection, so it was hard to hit the same spot long enough to penetrate the shielding. The air sizzled and burned around her head as one of them fired at her and missed. Anne herself wasn’t a crack shot, but she did manage to hit one in the leg long enough to disable him. He crumpled to the floor, unable to walk, and lost hold of his phaser.

All the while Tarenn taunted her, his voice cutting through the sound of phaser fire, telling her how she would suffer and serve him once he was free.

Still, she kept her head, though her heart wanted to bolt from the room and get to safety. When she realized that he would only continue to taunt her whether she answered or not, Anne found the voice access switch on the computer bank and murmured, “Computer, record sound and acknowledge silently.”

The display on the bank of computers she was hiding behind blinked and then the word ‘recording’ appeared on the screen. Anne gritted her teeth and tried not to hear Tarenn’s taunts or feel the fear that coiled in her belly. The mercenaries were the real threat, no matter what her frightened nerves said.

After another heated exchange of fire, the door to the brig slid open again. Red-shirted security officers poured through, firing as they came. The mercenaries had been prepared for this; they fired on both sides and managed to hit two of the officers, but sheer numbers won out, and soon they were overcome, their bodies dropping limp to the floor as they were stunned, one by one.

Heart pounding, Anne slowly came out from behind the computer bank. The first officer was there, the Vulcan whose name she hadn’t been told. He flipped open his communicator as the other officers began to take the wounded out to the med bay and the mercenaries to their cells. “Captain, I have control of the brig.”

“Good work, Mr. Spock,” the Captain said. “And the cargo hold?” Anne felt herself relax. 

“I have received no reports of activity there. A security team is posted there and will continue to guard until we have ensured that there are no other boarders.” Spock glanced at her. “I will consult with our passenger to see if she has any pertinent information. She aided the defense of the brig before we arrived.”

Was it just her imagination, or was there a slight pause before Kirk answered? “Acknowledged. Make it quick, I need you to check the cargo hold. Scotty’s running internal scans to see if he can find any other intruders, and the two ships are retreating. Kirk out.”

With that, Spock snapped his communicator shut and turned to Anne. “If you had information about the tactics of the smugglers, why did you not give it to us?” There was no accusation in his voice, merely curiosity.

“I didn’t remember it until they attacked,” Anne said, feeling a little stupid. “I’ll try to remember more, but it’s all tangled up with… other things.”

Tarenn laughed from his cell, causing Anne to flinch away. “You came here because you wanted to be there if I was released. Such devotion. It’s almost like you really were my lover.”

“I came here to make sure you  _ weren’t _ released. I’d rather die than live in a universe where you went free,” Anne spat. Her hands started to shake, and she clutched the phaser tighter. “Computer, end sound recording and file it under evidence.” She hit the switch again to shut off voice access.

Spock raised his eyebrow. “That may not be admissible in court.”

“I know.” Anne shook herself, trying to rid herself of Tarenn’s influence.

“I believe it would be preferable to speak outside,” Spock said and nodded to the door. Anne went with him out into the hallway. After the door slid closed behind them, he spoke. “If you have any more information about their tactics, it would be of great use to us.”

It took a moment for Anne to gather her wits enough to reply. She didn’t want to think about how she had learned any of the information he wanted. “I may. Some of it is too painful to think of for long. A lot is just… gone. I can’t get at it.”

Spock watched her impassively, seeming to weigh a decision. When he made his choice, his lips firmed. “It is possible that I can learn that information through a mind meld, if you are strong enough to withstand that manner of contact.”

Shaken, Anne stepped back. The idea of someone intruding into her mind, after all the other intrusions on her, was repellent. “I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t think I can.”

“It is an option, however, and I am certain, as is the Captain, that it is the Enterprise that will be sent back to this region to track down the rest of the smuggling ring. Any information would be a great help.” The somber expression of the Vulcan seemed somehow ominous. “Please consider this course of action.”

Anne frowned. He was right, and she wanted to help them, but… after everything else, having her mind invaded? The very idea was terrifying. Still, if it would help… “I will consider it very carefully,” she said, her hands knotting around the phaser.

“You should go to the med bay,” Spock said. “You are injured.”

At first, Anne didn’t know what he meant. He wasn’t talking about her mind. But when she looked down at her arms, one of them had a red, raw spot where she must have been grazed by phaser fire. She couldn’t feel it, but she knew it would start to hurt once the adrenaline wore off. She nodded briefly at Spock. “I will. Thank you.”

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/164983960668/walking-wounded-deleted-scene-3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Just letting you know, there is another deleted scene on [my tumblr](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/). It's a bit racy, definitely NSFW-- enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

The way Bones growled about Anne, you’d think she was dying. Kirk could tell that she was shaken-- the lines of her body were tense and she was just barely trembling. The phaser burn on her arm was only superficial, though, and she was otherwise uninjured. He’d come to the med bay after everything had settled; the two ships had fled, and the Enterprise was still in possession of the Sorte, the captives, the smugglers, and the cargo. Another small team of mercenaries had been captured on their way to the cargo bay, and the brig was so full that they had some of the captives two to a cell. Kirk had briefly considered pursuing the two ships, but in the end, the higher priority was getting back to Yorktown with what they had. The two ships would be taken care of later, along with any others they could find. **  
**

But they were able to stand down. The red alert was canceled, and the ship returned to normal activity, with the exception of Scotty, who was overseeing the hull repairs on deck 31. It stung a bit-- first hole in his new ship. Kirk knew he'd get over it, but it wasn't something he could brush off.

Bones had made Anne wait for treatment. There were others who were wounded more seriously and he had to prioritize them, which was why, as Kirk came up behind her, she was only just having her arm healed an hour or so after everything had cooled down. “It had to be the broken one,” Bones groused, running the dermal regenerator over her arm. “What in God’s name possessed you to go and join the fight anyway?”

“I had to,” Anne said simply. “I had to make sure the prisoners didn’t go free.”

Kirk could sympathize. After some of the things he’d heard the night before, he might have gone himself if he hadn’t been busy with the attacking ships. On the other hand, she’d ‘borrowed’ a phaser without authorization and possibly endangered the crew members in the brig. But it wasn’t as if he could officially reprimand her, and she had helped, after all. Reports were that she’d taken down at least one of them herself. Kirk decided to shelve the entire thing. It was such a tangle that it should probably just be glossed over, as it wasn’t likely to happen again. He waited in the background, not wanting to intrude when neither of them had noticed him yet. And eavesdropping, a little. Maybe.

“That was stupid and it could have gotten you killed. You should have left it to the security teams.” One edge of the burn didn’t seem to be responding well to the dermal regenerator, so Bones fiddled with some settings, and then went back to work.

“You don’t understand. If Tarenn had gotten free, he was planning to find me if he could, and I will fight to the death before I go back into that hell.” Anne’s tone was firm, but Kirk could hear a small tremble in her voice. “I had reasons to want a weapon.”

Shaking his head, Bones prodded the new skin. “Any feeling in that yet?” Kirk had the feeling that he didn’t want to pry into her implications about the phaser. She was off-balance enough already.

“It’s tender, but it’s all right.” She flexed her arm experimentally.

Kirk stepped up, and he must have made a small sound because Anne was instantly on the defensive, her head snapping around toward him, her hands clawed and her eyes so wary that they might have been feral. When she registered who it was, however, he saw her tension disappear, her body immediately relaxing and her expression warming into human relief. “Everything’s fine,” Kirk said, risking a little smile. “It’s all taken care of.”

He got an answering smile from her, although it was guilty, awkward. Her gaze flicked away from him, her eyelids lowering. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you with that attack strategy of theirs before it happened. I only remembered what they were doing once we were in the situation.”

“But you got it to us in time to stop them. That’s what matters.” He felt her gaze come to rest on him again, the pressure of her scrutiny. “Of course, I’d like to know anything more that you have. I’m sure Spock explained it to you.”

Her lips tightened, and he could see the fear lurking beneath the surface of those misty grey eyes. “He did, yes.”

“As a medical professional, I have to protest. A mind meld with that green-blooded menace to mental stability would be more traumatic than useful.” Bones scowled, as if the force of his disapproval might cancel out the idea.

“It’s risky, yes. But it would help catch the people who hurt you. And we’re only asking you to consider it.” Kirk grinned again. “So no more pressure. We won’t bring it up again unless you do.”

Anne relaxed a little more. The idea of a mind meld must have spooked her badly. “All right. We’ll see.”

There was just something about her that made him want to see her smile. Made him want to make her smile. It was better than seeing her worried or frightened… or maybe it was just the way it lit her up, brightened her eyes and made her angular face striking. Maybe. “For now, it’s time to relax. Have something to eat, have some drinks, go see one of the movies playing in the rec rooms… There’s a lot to do on the ship. There has to be, or we’d all go nuts on long missions.”

Bones huffed in displeasure and packed up his tools. “Get out of my med bay. You’re cluttering up the place.” Bones disapproved of his involvement with Anne. Kirk wasn’t sure he cared-- he’d seen this sort of thing before. Bones was just being territorial about _his_ patient, the way he was about _his_ staff and _his_ med bay.

Anne thanked Bones, and walked with Kirk out of the med bay. “I think I’ll just go to my room. This has been an interesting day. I’m not up to a crowd.”

“Do you want to be alone?” he asked, not sure if he liked the idea of her hiding away in her quarters all by herself after what had to have been an awful experience for her.

“Are you offering to stay with me?” she asked, turning those dangerous eyes on him. He almost felt like shivering under her gaze.

“Yes,” he said immediately. His logs and reports could wait a while. “Dinner or something? Nothing fancy.” He grinned down at her. “And nothing too heavy, I promise. If you want to talk, you can, but we can keep it light too.”

That smile of hers lit her face, the sight of it satisfying in a way he couldn’t define. “Light sounds good to me. And food. And music.”

Kirk laughed. “Good. I hope you like classical music.”

They ended up having creole food and listening to ancient jazz. He’d picked a safe genre since he didn’t know anything about her musical tastes, but her reaction when he’d suggested jazz had been to immediately suggest a recording by one of the most influential jazz artists of all time without even thinking about it. He couldn’t help but like that. Instrumentals made a good background to the talk about their past lives-- hers before the kidnapping, his before the Narada’s return. She’d traveled extensively for a civilian, having been to several planets that Kirk had passed by, and many that he had stopped on for whatever reasons. “I really spend all my time traveling,” she had said, her lashes lowering as if she were embarrassed.

Kirk set his beer glass down. It had seemed a bit wrong to have beer with oysters en brochette and crawfish étoufée, as if he should have been drinking something classier, but Anne had insisted that this was how it was done in New Orleans. He’d never been there, never had the time, but he decided during his next shore leave on Earth he would check it out. The food was amazing. “Did you ever think of joining Starfleet?” he asked, curious. She was intelligent enough, and he suspected that once she’d gotten to a healthier weight she’d be fit enough. Even as underfed as she was, she had some muscle, lean and toned, as if she were no stranger to physical activity. 

“I thought about it. I took the aptitude tests. It was a very strong possibility, but before I’d made up my mind to apply, my first book found a publisher. Suddenly I had the means to travel-- the book was a runaway success. So I had too much to do then, writing the next book and arranging for passage to different worlds. The Academy would have had me in a science or tactical track, but… I chose just being free to write, and to see things.” Her eyes were dreamy with pleasant remembrance. “I would have suited Starfleet, I think, but I’m not sure it would have suited me, even now.”

“That’s fair enough. If you’d been an officer on a ship, you’d be stuck with the same people doing the same thing for years at a time. That can get… tedious.” Kirk flashed her another grin. “ _If_ you forget that what you’re doing is just going out into the unknown and learning it for the first time, every time.”

Anne picked delicately at her étoufée, looking down at her plate. “It sounds like you really enjoy it, although you might not have, once.”

Nailed it on the first try. Didn’t even watch him to make sure. Kirk felt his smile turn self-deprecating. “What can I say? I’ve forgotten that, in the past. Not anymore. And my crew is my family; I’ve done a lot of crazy things for them, and they’ve done the same for me.”

“What made you decide on Starfleet?” Anne asked, looking back up at him.

That open gaze made it impossible to consider embellishing to make himself look better. She deserved the unvarnished truth. “It was a dare. I got into a bar fight with three Starfleet cadets and their captain broke it up. Asked me if I liked being ‘the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest.’ He knew my files and aptitudes because of my father. He’s dead now.” Kirk looked away from her, wondering if this was too far, too intimate. Anne would see exactly what this all meant to him, he was sure of it. But… it didn’t feel wrong. It felt all right, as if letting her see that would put them on more equal footing after all he knew about her. “Both of them are dead, actually. Admiral Pike died in the line of duty, a victim of a terrorist attack that I couldn’t prevent. My father died saving the lives of everyone on his ship, the Kelvin. He was Captain for exactly twelve minutes, while he evacuated it and then crashed the ship into their attacker.” Kirk laughed humorlessly. “I was born in one of the escaping shuttlecraft just before he died.”

Instead of the gush of sympathy he usually got when a woman found out about that part of his past, he saw only calm consideration in her eyes. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a lot to live with, and to live up to. From my point of view, you’re doing it admirably.” Those perilous eyes warmed. “But you know I’m biased.”

“I can handle that kind of bias,” he laughed. It was sort of a relief to have that out and not to get sympathy that he didn’t need. The shadow of his father’s deeds hung over him, yes, and Admiral Pike’s death had hit him hard, but those weren’t things he wanted to be pitied for.

Anne laughed too, and sipped her beer. It was a light, crisp raspberry beer that she claimed was originally native to New Orleans, and it complemented the meal nicely. Kirk suspected that she had programmed it into the food synthesizer herself, even though she hadn't been given access. Someone who travelled habitually would pick up things like that. He couldn't bring himself to worry about it; the synthesizers had safeguards to prevent anything harmful being programmed in. “I think you get a lot of bias,” Anne said, the corners of her eyes crinkling with humor. “And I don’t think you mind it one bit. In fact, I think you enjoy it.”

Kirk found himself carefully looking her over, unable to entirely hide smile playing on his lips. “Let me just ask you this, because I don’t want to get it wrong. Are you flirting with me?” She definitely was, and she’d fallen so naturally into it that he suspected it was habit. One she enjoyed, too. A flirt who liked it for its own sake was his favorite kind of flirt.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked down, thinking for a moment before she answered. “Yes, I guess I am,” she said, seeming to marvel at the idea. Looking earnestly back up at him, she asked, “Is that all right?”

He could have said no, kept his professional distance. He knew intellectually that he should. Leaning back in his chair, he gave her his most devilishly charming grin. “It’s fine by me.”

For the first time he saw faint color rise to her cheeks, that pale skin delicately touched with pink. “Good,” she said, and her lips curved in a smile he had never seen before, a half-mysterious, half-demure expression that was more an invitation than a statement of feeling. “Good. Because I don’t want to stop.”

Something about that expression suddenly had all of his attention. Kirk had to remind himself that pulling her over the table and kissing her was completely out of the question. Way too far, way too fast, way too aggressive for her mental state. Flirting only. Well, if she wanted to flirt, he was definitely going to respond. “And I don’t want you to stop. By all means, keep going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can guess the recording I mention, put it in the comments here and I’ll send you a chapter early, whether that's the next one or one further along down the line. :)


	10. Chapter 10

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/165232568441/walking-wounded-deleted-scene-4)

* * *

The few days left before docking at Yorktown fled quickly. To Anne, they were something like heaven. With useful work to do all day, kind and considerate colleagues, and frequent visits with Captain Kirk, instead of Tarenn and Loche and their demands and cruelty, she felt more sure than she had since before she’d been a captive. The possibility of the mind meld lurked below her thoughts, though, popping up at odd moments to torment her. Granting access to her mind was something that, in her previous life, she wouldn’t have hesitated to do just to know what it felt like. As it stood now, her mind had long been her only sanctuary and she was frightened of letting anyone into it.

If only it had been Kirk that was capable of the mind meld. She wouldn’t hesitate then; she knew that he was the kind of person who couldn’t stand by and watch others be abused. She wondered, sometimes, if there wasn’t something related to that in his past. No one became the sort of daredevil child he’d referenced for no reason. And it was plain that he idealized his father to a degree much greater than he would have if his father figure while growing up had been the same kind of upstanding person. But he hadn’t said anything directly, and she wouldn’t pry. She knew better.

He’d taken to seeing her for an hour in the morning, before they started their shifts, letting her spill out the details of her captivity in measured doses, and then coming to have dinner with her in the evenings, where they would talk about anything and everything else. She’d glossed over some of the worst parts of her captivity with Tarenn during Kirk’s cross-examination of her, but she hadn’t left anything out. By now he knew most of it, if not the more awful things that had happened elsewhere. Nothing she’d said had shaken his confidence in her. It was a good feeling, to know he believed the things she said and trusted in her account of her captivity, even with her memory issues.

Anne knew, though, that those holes in her memory contained things that could be helpful. And by the time they docked at Yorktown, she knew she would have to go through with the mind meld. She just hadn’t said anything yet.

She had the trial to think of.

The practice questioning with Kirk had been helpful, but she still wasn’t sure if she could speak in front of an auditorium full of people. And she hadn’t mentioned anything about what had gone on with Loche, not at all. There was the possibility that it might come up during questioning.

It would definitely come up during the mind meld. It was the whole purpose of the mind meld.

There was no help for it. One way or another, she'd have to admit to the blood on her hands.

She would rather reveal it to Kirk before any of that. Indeed, as the Enterprise was docking, she lingered in her quarters, in hopes that he would stop there before disembarking and she could speak to him privately. Instead, he summoned her to the docking passage.

Anne briefly considered whether to bring anything with her, and decided against it. She’d been in contact with Mason, and he would have set something up for her by now. The Enterprise could use the materials of her borrowed clothes to synthesize other things. She smoothed her dress. It was a simple sleeveless dress, white, with a modest bateau neckline and a flared skirt that swirled around her calves. With her hair caught up in her customary French twist, she felt she looked presentable enough for the Council. Cosmetics and all that would have hidden the marks her captivity had left.

As she made her way to the docking passage, she reflected that she would miss the intimidating bustle of the passageways and the purposeful strides of the crew members. It was nice to be in a place where everyone had a function and knew it, even if she couldn't be a part of it. And she was still doing better than some. She’d seen the other slaves from time to time, but none of them wanted to associate with her, or each other. They had been traded back and forth for longer than she had; they weren’t adjusting well to freedom. They didn’t want her interference. It was the crew that Anne had started to bond with, and she hadn’t even felt secure enough to start talking to them.

It felt like goodbye. Mason would have gotten her an apartment already. He’d been his same old snobby British self when she’d contacted him, as abrasive and domineering as ever even when he was trying to be protective. Although he’d been her agent since her first book, she couldn’t handle talking to him long in her fragile state. But she wouldn’t have had to tell him what kind of apartment or what things she needed; he’d take care of it without her asking. He knew what she wanted. Still, leaving the ship felt… isolating. It was an odd and unaccustomed emotion. She’d preferred to be alone for so long.

When she approached Kirk, she knew he could see the wistfulness in her face. He was good at reading her. She was a little intimidated that he was standing with a whole group: Spock, McCoy, and a beautiful dark-complected woman that Anne didn’t know. They were all in grey formal Starfleet uniforms, ready for the trial. Kirk stepped forward to meet her. “Tarenn’s already been taken from the ship and put in Yorktown’s custody. The trial will be in an hour, so we should get going.”

Anne nodded. “I’m as ready as I can possibly be,” she said gravely. She was still afraid she might break down on the stand. “I need to speak to you privately,” she said, darting a quick glance at the others. “It’s not good.”

Kirk looked at the others, and then led her a short distance away. “I can’t really afford anything more private than this at the moment. Is something wrong?” His eyes searched her face, concerned.

Anne glanced back at the group waiting for them, and then said, “No. Sorry. But if something I haven’t told you comes up in the trial, please try not to judge me too harshly.”

Kirk blinked, frowned, nonplussed by her statement. “No one’s going to hold anything you did while you were a captive against you.” His expression said that they damn well better not.

Somewhat comforted, though still worried, Anne nodded. “All right. But I do want you to remember that there’s more than I told you, and it’s worse. Much worse. My other… owner… was hellish.”

Jaw tightening, Kirk had to take a moment to clear his scowl. “And that’s who I’ll be hunting next. I’ve had orders from Starfleet Command that pending the outcome of the trial, the Enterprise will be heading back out to catch the rest of the smuggling ring and any of their clients we can find.”

Sighing, Anne sagged a bit. Knowing he would be on the mission relieved her; he would find them. She knew it. “All right. Good. I guess we should go, then.”

Kirk motioned to the others, and they fell in around Anne like a phalanx, insulating her from anyone else. Anne snuck a glance toward the woman, wondering who she was, and accidentally caught her eye. “Don’t worry,” the woman said, smiling reassuringly. “You’re gonna be okay. We’re with you.”

Anne felt herself give an automatic smile in return, despite the pit that was growing in her stomach. If this was the quality of people that Starfleet recruited, maybe she’d have done well in it after all.

The Council chamber was huge and crowded with sentients of all kinds. An assortment of high-ranking people sat in a semicircle across the back of the room, and the auditorium in front of them was packed with all sorts, both Starfleet and civilians, though no media was allowed. Anne had never been in a Federation court before, and while she was intimidated, some part of her was also avidly trying to memorize every detail, every impression. When she could write again, she might need the remembrance of this scene. 

Kirk led the group to some seats near the bottom, seating her between himself and McCoy. As everyone made their way to their appointed places, he murmured in her ear, “Uhura, Bones, and I are testifying as well. Spock is here for moral support.”

Anne couldn’t help some silent, puzzled humor at the idea. She’d been friendly with a couple of Vulcans before her capture, and that wouldn’t have been a consideration for any she’d known. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe Kirk was just trying to keep her mind off the trial.

It seemed like too short a time before the man in the center of the curving Council table, the name Vice-Admiral Landau engraved on a plaque in front of him, banged his gavel. The crowd fell silent. “We are here to determine the guilt or innocence of one Gamel Tarenn. Come to order. Bring the defendant to the stand.”

Anne felt her grip on the arms of the chair grow tight and her breathing turn shallow. Tarenn was brought out, wearing his normal dark clothing, his legs not shackled and his hands not cuffed. As she noticed that, Anne felt her breathing quicken into hyperventilating. Why hadn’t they shackled him? He was dangerous. The charges against him were for violence. They had no reason to believe he wouldn’t attempt something,

Kirk’s hand came down over one of hers. “It’s all right. The guards have their phasers. If he tries anything, he’ll get stunned.” His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, sending a flurry of other emotions coursing through Anne. She turned her hand up under his, threading her fingers through his, and he squeezed reassuringly. She didn’t care if it was inappropriate; she just wanted the comfort of knowing Kirk was there.

Her roiling emotions made it hard to keep her detachment, but it helped to remind herself that it was research. Nyota Uhura was first called to the stand, and she testified that messages had been sent from Tarenn’s ship regarding the sale of human beings. The two captives who had chosen to participate were called to speak about their experiences with Tarenn. They had not come from the same place she had, so they hadn’t been mistreated the same way. They were still captives, however, and they had still gone through horrors. Doctor McCoy was called to talk about the medical state of the captives. His testimony was restricted to the malnutrition and the occasional beatings that they could prove had happened during the captives’ time with Tarenn, but it still included medical holos, lacerations and bruises marked on anonymous, undetailed figures. Anne knew instantly which holo was of her; it was unmistakable. For the first time, she saw all of the damage to her body. It was… bad. Knowing she had scars was one thing, but seeing them was completely another. She’d avoided mirrors, and nudity, since she’d gained her freedom. 

McCoy’s testimony went on for a long while, as he had ten patients to get through, and then Kirk was called to the stand. He squeezed her hand again before he got up, letting her fingers fall loosely from his, and gave her a small wink before heading down to the stand. He was questioned about the incident that brought him into contact with Tarenn, and what had made him decide that Tarenn’s ship should be captured.

“Screaming,” Kirk replied to the Councillor’s last question. “We were aboard the ship, ready to start repairing the hull when I heard screaming coming from the hold just off Engineering.”

“And this is where you found the slaves?” a hard-faced woman asked.

“Yes, ma’am. They were in a state I wouldn’t leave a dog in. Dirty, underfed, dressed in rags. The one who screamed seemed unaware of me until I opened her cell door.” Though she could only see his back, she knew the expression on his face. A mixture of abhorrence and determination behind a careful blankness. She had seen it often enough.

“Shortly afterward you discovered the contraband. Is that correct?” A Vulcan asked, her face as expressionless as Spock’s was.

“Yes, ma’am. Everything was recorded and transferred to the Enterprise to bring to Yorktown.” Kirk nodded respectfully to the Vulcan.

“And this all happened because of the vaccine against Corellian Syndrome,” Vice-Admiral Landau said.

“Yes, sir,” Kirk replied. “We attempted to beam the vaccine over, but the Sorte’s deflectors were malfunctioning. We couldn’t transport anything over until they were off, and when they were, an asteroid hit the Sorte’s hull, causing a small breach. We beamed over to provide assistance.”

The Vice-Admiral looked skeptically at Kirk, but subsided. “We have no further questions for you. The defendant may speak.”

“I believe they used their tractor beam to move the asteroid into our path,” Tarenn said. “Our sensors showed no asteroid approaching us.”

Kirk replied coldly, “Our tractor beam logs are available to the court. They will show that we did no such thing. As for your sensors, your communications and your deflectors were malfunctioning. It’s possible that your sensors were as well.”

At that, Tarenn subsided, growling, “No more questions.”

“You may be seated, Captain,” the Vice-Admiral said. As Kirk walked back to his seat, Vice-Admiral Landau announced, “Anne Hardesty, you are summoned to the stand.”

Anne felt her blood drain, leaving her light-headed. She pushed herself up from her chair and numbly made her way to the aisle where Kirk was standing. Looking up at him, she saw him nod encouragingly, and he touched her shoulder as she passed. That simple touch steadied her, made her feel a little better. Breathing deeply, she walked down the aisle, as composed as she could be. Once behind the witness’s podium, she felt a little better, as she could only see Tarenn if she looked in his direction.

“Do you confirm that you are Anne M. Hardesty?” one of the Councillors asked. Anne couldn’t look to see which of them it was. She stared straight ahead.

“Yes,” she tried to say, but it barely came out. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I am.” That time was better. Firmer. Almost in control.

“Do you also confirm Captain Kirk’s account of the state he found you in?” someone else asked. She was too upset to want to know who was asking the questions. She decided to ignore the people entirely and concentrate just on what was asked.

“I do. I was in the first cell he opened. I was the one who had screamed.” When would the hard questions start?

“Do you also confirm that you wish to pursue the charges you have logged against Gamel Tarenn?”

“Yes. I do.” Her voice had trembled. This wasn’t easy. The charges were almost every crime that one person could inflict on another. 

“Why did you scream?”

“I heard new voices on the ship. I thought I heard the word Starfleet. I decided it was worth risking a beating if I was wrong.” Not that Tarenn had habitually beaten her. That was more Loche’s style.

“How long was your captivity on the Sorte?”

“About three months, I think. I don’t know exact dates.” She’d never had access to anything that would have shown her dates. Neither Tarenn nor Loche had allowed it; she’d mostly stolen peeks at others using the computers when no one was looking in her direction.

“How did you come to be on the Sorte?” 

Anne closed her eyes. They were getting closer to the bad stuff. “Tarenn won me in a game of dom-jot.”

And then it came. The hard question that would start off all the others. “For what purpose did he keep you?”

Anne tried to detach herself as much as possible. Words came from her, but she barely heard them, though she knew they were coherent and true. More questions followed, each digging deeper into what had happened to her, and she confirmed McCoy’s account of her malnutrition and abuse, describing in brief detail her encounters with Tarenn. It was something like torture, remembering all of it, but she pretended she was talking with Kirk again, and that helped somewhat.

Near the end of her questioning, she could feel herself shaking. One of the voices asked, “Once you were on the Enterprise, you provided information that helped them repel an attack by alleged smuggling ships. Where did you come by this information?”

“I had been on Tarenn’s ship when he enacted the same strategy more than once, to overcome passing cargo ships that were using their tractor beams. It seemed like a common strategy.” That was safer territory.

Immediately, they went back into unsafe territory. “Did Gamel Tarenn ever give you duties aboard his ship?”

Taking a shaky breath, Anne attempted to evade the question. “Nothing that pertained to the ship or the running of it.”

“Please explain,” someone said.

Another shaky breath, and then another. She was losing it. “Does the court consider the use of my body in a criminal fashion duties?” she asked, and she couldn’t keep her voice from being a bit hostile.

There was a short pause. “Understood.”

Vice-Admiral Landau, who was in her direct line of vision, said, “We have no more questions for you. The defendant may address his accuser.”

Anne had known this was coming, but after the questioning, she wasn’t sure she could stand up to it. She felt herself trembling like a leaf in a high wind. 

“Anne, prima donna, how can you lie like this? I would submit to the court that we were lovers, and that she was caged because she became violent towards me and the rest of the crew.” Tarenn’s voice sounded smooth, oily even, and she felt it as though it stuck to her skin.

“Never,” she said, her voice ragged with fear. It wasn't as if she hadn't pretended she had feelings for him early on… but it had been that or die. “I was never your lover. I would never-- never--” she felt her hands grip the sides of the podium, and she closed her eyes.

“At least look at me before you throw me on the mercy of the court,” Tarenn said. “We had such fun together. And you look so lovely. I want my last memory of you to be of your beautiful face.” His voice sounded smugly sarcastic. Anne knew he was just saying these things to try to tear away her composure. It was working. She forced her eyes open.

A sudden movement behind her caught her attention, and her head snapped around to see that Kirk had risen and was approaching the stand. “Captain Kirk, you have not been summoned to the stand,” Vice-Admiral Landau growled.

“As one of the witnesses, I have the right to stand here,” he said, stepping briskly down the stairs to the podium. “And as a Starfleet officer, I will not stand by and watch the accused inflict mental and emotional suffering on his victim in front of the whole court.” Kirk stood at the podium with her, his body slightly turned so that his back was to her, and so that she could not see Tarenn at all. Anne felt her trembling lessen, his presence giving her strength. He was nearly touching her, so close that she could almost feel the warmth of his body.

A tense silence filled the room. Anne hoped desperately that they wouldn’t make him leave her.

After what seemed eons, Vice-Admiral Landau said, “I will allow it, this once. But only because the evidence seems clear. Gamel Tarenn, have you any questions left for your accusers before we confer to make our ruling?”

“I do not,” Tarenn said icily. Deprived of the fun of watching her break down on the stand, he no longer seemed interested in her. Anne felt even more relieved.

“I have something to add,” Kirk said, surprising her. “I believe it will settle any question of Tarenn’s accusations toward Ms. Hardesty.”

“Present your evidence,” Vice-Admiral Landau said, frowning.

Kirk held up a small chip. “This sound recording was made in the brig, during our altercation with the smugglers. It was not submitted with the rest of the evidence because there was some question of whether it would be legally admissible, but as it was recorded during a battle, I believe the expectation of privacy is inapplicable. Am I correct?”

Vice-Admiral Landau glanced at the other Councillors, then back to Kirk. “Give us a moment to consult.”

It took very little time for them to come to a decision. “Play the recording,” the hard-faced woman said.

Kirk inserted the chip into a slot on the podium, and the sounds of the battle filled the air. Phaser fire, Anne’s panting, the directions of the other officers that she’d barely heard… and then Tarenn’s taunting, his promises of how she would scream to pay for the screams that had set her free. His descriptions of how he would make her beg to stay with him rather than be traded back to Loche. Anne heard her own choked off gasps and whimpers as she tried to ignore him, the background of the phaser fire… the door opening, and then more shouting and the eventual defeat of the mercenaries. Spock talking to Kirk. And then that last exchange.

“You came here because you wanted to be there if I was released. Such devotion. It’s almost like you really were my lover.”

“I came here to make sure you _weren’t_ released. I’d rather die than live in a universe where you went free.”

The court was silent for a moment afterward, processing the recording. Kirk took advantage of the silence. “I believe Tarenn’s last comment proves that he did not consider her a lover, and Ms. Hardesty’s answer proves that she has no romantic feelings for Tarenn.”

“You are correct,” the Vulcan said. “His words would be illogical if there was an established emotional attachment there. And in our ruling we will take into account the danger he presents to Ms. Hardesty.”

“Thank you,” Kirk said.

“The Court will adjourn for ruling. Please remain in your seats. The accused will stay at the stand; the accusers may be seated.” Vice-Admiral Landau rose from his chair, and the other Councilors joined him.

Kirk turned to Anne, looking her over. She knew he could see that she was barely hanging on. “Come on,” he said gently, and turned.

It was definitely by design that Kirk stayed in front of her the whole way back to the aisle, blocking her from Tarenn’s sight. As they reached the aisle, her turned and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, walking her up the aisle and back toward their seats. Anne felt Uhura watching her with sympathetic eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to do more than glance in Uhura’s direction.

The deliberation didn’t take long. There was too much evidence against Tarenn. When the Councillors filed back in the room and had taken their places, Vice-Admiral Landau banged his gavel for silence, and then said, “The accused is found guilty on all charges. He will go to rehabilitation, and the length of his stay will be determined by his willingness to change his ways.”

It was the equivalent of a life sentence. A satisfied murmur rippled through the auditorium. Anne was again clutching Kirk’s hand, this time with both hands, trying to still the awful shaking that gripped her. There were a few formalities after that as Tarenn was escorted from the room, but she paid them no attention. He was gone, he was being rehabilitated, and she would never see him again. The thought was overwhelming.

When Kirk rose, she did too, hesitant to let go of his hand. When she tried, however, he just squeezed her hand and looked back at her. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“I have to find out where I’m staying,” Anne said, her voice shaky.

Kirk gave her a small grin. “Forget it. You’re on the Enterprise.”

A rush of relief flooded through her, almost unbalancing her enough for tears. All of these conflicting emotions were going to drive her mad. She just nodded and let him bring her along, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm like it belonged there.

* * *

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/165745146831/a-little-extra)


	11. Chapter 11

By the time they reached Kirk’s quarters, Anne was biting her lip, trying to hold in all the emotion that threatened to swamp her. Tears stung her eyes and she was blinking them away as fast as she could. None of them made it to her cheek, not yet, but she knew it was coming.  


Kirk had waved off the others when Uhura had asked if he needed them for anything. “It’s short, but it is a shore leave,” Kirk had said. “Go have fun.”

“And where are you going?” McCoy had asked him, looking pointedly at Anne.

“I’m going to spend a quiet night in,” Kirk had answered. “Let it go, Bones.”

McCoy had scowled, but he’d peeled off after Uhura and Spock, Uhura giving Anne one last worried look.

And now Anne was in Kirk’s quarters, a room she’d never been in. It was really a suite, with a distinct office area at one side of the room, crowded with powerwalls and holographic displays; part of the rest was a socializing area with two curved couches and a low round table between them. There was also a dining table at the back near the windows, one that looked like it could be extended for large groups. Doors led off to the left and right; Anne assumed they were the bedroom and the washroom. Everything was the bright white, gunmetal grey, and deep black motif of the rest of the ship, with touches of blue here and there on the displays.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Kirk said, gently letting go of her. “I’m just going to get rid of this uniform. The formals aren't very comfortable.”

Anne took a hesitant step toward the table and chairs, and Kirk left her, walking through the door on the right, a soft whoosh as it shut behind him.

The loss of his presence was nearly enough to capsize her control. Trying to forestall the inevitable, Anne walked to the windows, watching the buzz and flutter of the smaller vehicles as they tended to minor wounds the Enterprise had suffered. It was like watching a cloud of hummingbirds dart around a swan. The view distracted her somewhat, so she concentrated on it, trying to let it fill her mind and still her shaking.

She had almost succeeded when Kirk returned, wearing a soft grey shirt and dark, fitted pants. He didn’t speak; she just watched him approach, his eyes on hers, until she was within his reach. Giving her plenty of time to step away, he set a warm hand on her shoulder and quietly asked, “Are you all right?”

The kindness in his voice undid her completely. One moment she was standing at arm’s length from him with mostly dry eyes, and the next moment she was crying into his shirt, shaking and nearly retching with the force of her sobs.

Kirk knew what to do. He just wrapped his arms around her and kept up a comforting murmur that she barely heard over the thundering emotions inside her head. All of the pain, all of the anger and hurt, all of the violation and the moments of involuntary, humiliating response, all of the emotions of the last months came pouring out in her sobs. Tarenn was in rehabilitation. She would never see him again. The things he had done to her would never happen again. He would never have the power to give her back to Loche. None of it would ever happen again. She was safe now. It was almost as if something had been torn open inside her, a veil that was now shredded, exposing all of the emotions she had suppressed for so long.

For the moment they would not be denied, and the only way she could express them was with gut-wrenching sobs that threatened to tear her body apart.

By the time those quakes subsided, she was pressed tight against him, his heart thudding in her ear. His arms were firm and comforting, holding her steady, and his voice was a low murmur in her ear, reassuring her that she was all right, everything was fine, no one would hurt her. She was safe.

Her chest still hitching with tiny sobs, she lifted her head to look at him, just to look, and found her lips meeting his, a kiss that seemed to sweep her under like a tidal wave, blasting away all the pain and sorrow as it went. It seemed so natural, so right, for them to fit together like this. Her lips parted, and his, and the taste of him flooded through her, a taste she hadn't realized she had craved until now. Anne made a soft noise and melted against his chest, submerging herself in that breathless kiss, letting it wash away enough of her hurt that she felt some clean and honest want, a desire she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

The kiss deepened, tongues twining, teeth nipping, and eventually they had to break for breath. Anne’s heart was racing, and from what she could feel, so was Kirk’s. Breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers. But when they’d caught their breath, instead of another kiss, he spoke.

“Anne… we shouldn’t do this.”

She didn’t reply with words, just pulled away slightly and looked at him.

He caught the question in her gaze immediately. “No, I don’t say that very often. But I mean it. If something happens between us, I’d rather it happen when you’re not trying to decide between kissing me and crying.”

The self-deprecating humor in the way he said it teased a small smile out of her. “You’re probably right,” she sighed, letting her head drop to his chest again. He didn’t try to let go of her, just held her. It was frightening to know that part of her wanted more than that, much more. Still, even though her fear, she could feel herself wondering just how far things could go, or might have gone. “But…”

“It would be better if this happened sometime later. Even if it was just-- even just a week from now, it would still be better, because… I can’t, I won’t, not after a day like this. Not when you’re still so upset.” He murmured the words into her hair, almost as if he was saying it to himself.

“I know,” Anne said softly. “My hero would never take advantage of me that way.” It was a joke… mostly.

And he knew that. He laughed, but he was partly laughing at the fact that it was true. “Let’s go sit down. I’ll get something to drink, and we can just… relax. Decompress.” He loosened his embrace and led Anne to the nearby couch. “Sit. I’ll find something good.”

Obediently, Anne sat, knowing he would come back so that she could lean on him. It was his nature, and for now, hers.

Kirk rummaged in one of the wall compartments and eventually came up with a bottle of scotch and a couple of glasses. “I hope you like peaty scotch. This is probably the only good one I have left.”

“I’ve never had that one,” Anne said, eyeing the label. It was one of the distilleries on a colony planet, reputed to be very good. Maybe he shouldn’t waste it on her. “We’ll see. I may want gutrot liquor.”

Kirk grimaced. “Well, I know I have some of that somewhere, but we have to at least pretend to be classy first, right?.” He set the glasses down and poured them each a decent measure. When he sat, he made no effort to keep his distance. In fact, he slid an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close without crowding her. It felt good, soothing, to be this close to him. The weight of his arm felt like it was keeping her steady.

The first sip of scotch made her gasp with the burn. She wasn’t used to it anymore. When she exhaled, it felt like she was breathing fire. But the feeling was familiar, and welcome, and so she sipped again. It was so sweet on top and so smoky beneath. She leaned into Kirk, letting her head rest on his chest. “I like it.”

“Good.” Kirk sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch. “What an awful day.” 

“I’ve had worse. Just couldn’t afford to cry after them,” Anne said, glancing up at him. There was a faint smile on his lips.

“We could just get drunk and pass out on the couch here. That might be therapeutic.” Kirk laughed, but Anne knew it was only half a joke.

“That is a definite option,” Anne said. “Let’s talk about anything else, and if it ends up happening, I’m all right with that.”

“Sounds like a plan. But first…” He held his glass out to hers. “Cheers. We did something good today.”

Anne laughed soundlessly. “Cheers.” They both downed some of the scotch. “Now, about that criminal record you had…”

Kirk laughed and squeezed her close against his side. “You’re really fixated on my checkered past, you know that?” 

Anne shook her head virtuously. “I’m fixated on everything interesting. That’s just the easiest to start with.”

“I’m interesting just in general. Does that mean you’re really fixated on me?” Kirk asked, flashing that ladykiller grin at her. What an incorrigible flirt. And how did he know that was the best way to make her smile?

Hiding her face, cheek pressed against his chest, Anne replied, “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious, don’t you?” She knew he would hear the smile in her voice.


	12. Chapter 12

Kirk awoke to a thumping sound, and immediately realized that his head was pounding. Noise filled the room, and above it he recognized the chirp of the door. “Just a moment,” he said-- well, croaked, really-- and tried to sit up. A moment later, he realized that someone was sleeping on him, someone small and light. The noise and thumping resolved into music. Classical rap, from the late 20th century. He vaguely remembered talking about the artist’s unique rhyming scheme and syncopated rhythm. Had he just left it running? Before he could do anything to perhaps mitigate the circumstances he would be found in, the door slid open.  


“Music off!” a voice snapped. Bones. Kirk knew he wouldn’t have gotten so drunk if he had somewhere to be, so he wasn’t too worried, but Bones on a tear was a force to be reckoned with. The noise stopped, and Kirk felt his headache ease a notch or two. He hoped he was wearing clothes. “What in god’s name do you think you’re doing, Jim?” Bones said, almost yelled. All right, well, that wasn’t any better. “What kind of--”

Kirk registered that he was, in fact, clothed. So far, so good. He hoped whoever he was with was also clothed. “Morning, Bones,” he said, feeling the light weight on his chest shift. A woman made a soft noise of complaint, pressed her cheek harder into his chest.

“Morning? It’s almost evening! And it stinks like a distillery in here.” Bones came into his field of vision, and immediately saw the table full of empty glasses and bottles. “My god, man, what in hell got into you? I thought you’d outgrown this kind of irresponsible-- that’s not that bottle of Saurian brandy, is it? And Draylaxian whiskey? And Ktarian vodka? Are you trying to implode your liver?” Bones whipped out a scanner and began to examine Kirk and the woman still sleeping on top of him.

Or maybe not sleeping. A slightly muffled voice snarled, “Doctor, if you continue to yell that way without giving me any painkillers first, I will bounce you out that door so hard the gravity won’t know what to do with you.”

Bones paused and so did Kirk, taken aback by Anne’s aggression, although Kirk felt he had the better end of the deal there. Anne’s odd assertive moments had inoculated him to the surprise that would otherwise have been-- it was kind of like seeing a mouse roar like a tiger. As Kirk tried not to laugh, Bones recollected himself. “Right, well, you deserve every bit of that headache,” Bones said. “Ktarian vodka has interactions with any number of things. You could have done yourselves serious damage.” Despite his words, Kirk heard the hiss of a hypospray, and the weight that was Anne slowly relaxed, melting onto him.

“What, I don’t get any?” Kirk asked as Bones began to put the hypo away. “You’re always shooting me up with things and now you stop?”

Muttering under his breath, Bones jammed the hypospray against Kirk’s neck. “Delinquent children, that’s what you are. The only reason I’m here is because people have been pestering us all day about your damn court case, and you couldn’t be bothered to answer your door.” Soothing painlessness began to creep through Kirk’s limbs, eventually numbing the hammering inside his head.

Anne suddenly pushed herself up, Kirk’s body cooling where her weight had lifted. Had they really slept all night-- well, afternoon-- a few hours, anyway-- with her lying on him like that? As abruptly as she’d pushed herself up, Anne jammed one hand against the back of the couch and the other against her head. “Oh god, I think I’m still drunk.”

“Fluids and potassium,” Bones snapped. “And your calcium pill, which no doubt you forgot.”

“I made sure she took it,” Kirk said, closing his eyes. “The one last night and the breakfast one, anyway.”

“Jim, there are reporters camped outside the docking passage. I don’t know if you realize this, but that court case attracted a lot of attention. Someone’s got to go chase them away.” 

Kirk cracked an eye, then closed it again. “Starfleet can--”

“Starfleet won’t do a goddamn thing. They already said so. Said that if someone didn’t go talk to them, it might make them dig, and that could jeopardize the mission. And might I add that Command also said if you took much longer addressing the issue they might start to dig anyway? Which is why I got called out of my shore leave to come wake you up.” Bones jammed the hypo back in its case and into his kit.

“All right, Bones. I’ll--”

“Pipe down,” Anne said. Kirk could see the ghost of a smile on her lips, taking the seriousness out of her order. “This is my job. Let me handle it.” She disentangled herself from him, freeing Kirk’s legs, and then looked back as she swung her legs to the floor. “Mind if I make a call?” 

“Uh, no,” Kirk said. Her dress had ridden up, but before he could see anything too revealing she’d shaken the skirt out, letting it swish down around her calves. Kirk felt his eyebrows rise. Not bad, even for someone still so thin. Looking up, he realized she was watching him and had seen his inadvertent appreciation. He thought he saw her smile widen before she began to walk toward his room. Suddenly realizing he'd better stop looking before he got caught staring at what seemed likely to be an extremely nice ass, he batted at a switch on the table, hitting it on the second try. “Computer, allow Anne Hardesty into the Captain’s bedroom. With comm privileges,” he said quickly, before she had to stop and ask him to do it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know if she would keep that assertiveness, or if she would wither back into uncertainty.

After the door slid shut, Bones turned to him. “At least I can thank god you haven’t already--”

“Bones, please,” Kirk interrupted. “I know you know me. Not this time. She’s still recovering, and I’m--”

“An idiot, that’s what you are,” Bones snapped, shoving Kirk’s feet off the couch so he could sit down. “The Enterprise doesn’t have the mental health facilities for what happened to her. We can deal with run-of-the-mill depression, anger issues, cabin fever, all the things the crew face, but not that level of trauma. What exactly do you think you’re going to get out of this?”

“I’m not trying to get anything,” Kirk said, feeling sulky. And by now he knew that if he was feeling sulky, he was probably in the wrong. Slowly, he pulled himself up to a sitting position. “All right, well, I’m not going to say I’m not attracted to her. But I’m not an idiot, Bones. We drank. We talked. We listened to music. And we didn’t do a goddamn thing.” Well, not anything important. Yet.

Fixing him with gimlet eyes, Bones waited for him to crack. When he didn’t, Bones huffed irritably. “Well, you’re still playing with fire when it comes to the mental state of one of my patients. And I do know you. There are a hundred little things that tell anyone who’s looking exactly what’s going on here. You don’t know the first thing about her or what she wants--”

“We haven’t even talked about it yet. And I would,” Kirk emphasized. “I know this isn’t… isn’t a normal thing. Fling. Whatever it is. It’s all on her, it’s all her choice.”

“And what if her choice gets her into trouble? Like with some absentee lover? Or one that has a wandering eye? Or one that can barely admit he’s got flaws of his own?” Kirk felt himself giving McCoy a flat look, and McCoy scowled at him. “And what business do you have encouraging this when you are all those things? How much damage are you going to do on the way out?”

That stung. More deeply than Kirk wanted to admit. He covered his lack of composure by stretching, then looking back at McCoy. “You know, I think you could use a little perspective. She’s a person, Bones, not a collection of mental issues, and it would be wrong to--”

The bedroom door slid open, and Anne poked her head out. “Captain Kirk, do you mind being seen with me in public? If you do mind, can you think of someone else who would be all right with their name being associated with something as sordid as my former circumstances?”

The twist of irony in her tone decided him. Kirk was no publicity-hound; he had never cared whether people knew his name unless it was in history books for the things he’d done, and the idea that what she’d been through was any reflection on her was pretty ridiculous. “I’d be insulted if you asked anyone else,” Kirk said, smiling at her. There was no answering smile, but Anne’s eyes brightened in a heart-stopping way, and she ducked back into his room, the door sliding shut after her withdrawal. 

“Ugh,” Bones said. “That’s it, I’m leaving.” He stood up, checking his kit to make sure it was shut. “You’ve obviously got your mind made up--”

“Bones, that’s ridiculous. She asked me, you just saw it. If she hadn’t been--”

“But she is,” Bones interrupted, looking back at him. “And was it right for you to say yes, Jim?”

Kirk had no answer to that, not for himself. “The only thing I’ve done is tried to help.”

McCoy stopped, his shoulders sinking. “You shouldn’t have assumed you _could_ help,” he said, looking away.

“No one else was doing it.” Kirk ran his hand through his hair. “Bones, I…”

Surprisingly, Bones’s voice was softer. “Jim, you’re out of your depth. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t blame you for doing what you thought was right. There’s a line with this one, though, and you should stay on your side of it, for both your sakes.”

An explosive sigh left Kirk. “Believe me, that wasn’t how this started out.” After a moment, he shrugged. “I was just looking for information, just hoping to get her through the trial in one piece.” He paused, then smirked. He had to be honest with himself about what was keeping his interest. “The way she looks at people, it’s like she can look right into them.”

It was Bones’s turn to sigh. “Just because I get what’s happening here doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He stepped away, then jerked his head at the table, covered with the debris of their late-night appetites. “Get rid of that. Just the fumes could kill you both.”

After the doors slid shut on McCoy’s departure, Kirk ordered the air scrubber on high and stood, carrying the remnants of the last night to the disposal. At the very least, that Saurian brandy was finished, as well as the odds and ends of other things Bones had said were not fit to drink. That brandy had somehow stayed completely unbroken through the crash of the old Enterprise; Kirk had found it on the salvage mission to Altamid and decided he might as well bring it back. Well, now it was gone. Finally.

When Anne returned, she was surprised. “Where’s the Doctor?” she asked, glancing from the clean table to the door. 

“He had to go. Some psychology business, “ Kirk said. There was no way he was admitting what had gone on. “What’s your course of action?” he asked, watching as Anne picked her way across the room. Her steps were so deliberate and delicate that the memory that had been niggling at the back of his mind finally burst free. One of the times he’d been camping in Arizona, he'd spotted a grey doe crossing a clearing in the thorny brush just after dawn. She’d stopped, flicked her ears toward him, then bolted away through the early morning mist. Anne moved the same way: light, graceful, ready to flee.

She didn’t speak until she was already seating herself by him. “Privacy is a feat of strength, you know,” she said, her legs curling up under her and her head resting on his arm. “I’m cashing in on some of my old favors, but we have to give them something. They want both of us, although one would do.” He said nothing, knowing she was waiting for him to reconsider, knowing she would eventually move on. After a moment, she did. “I was talking to my agent. It’s all about pretext and face-saving. Give them a few holos, some noncommittal words, and then a graceful out so they don’t have to chase. They look like they’re digging, and we only have to give a little. We can always loop around and come back to the Enterprise.” That spark of confidence guttered and started to dim. “They’re going to want to know if I’m writing a book.”

“That’s none of their business. You wouldn’t have told them anything before, so why start now?” Kirk shrugged it off, hoping she would take heart from his unconcern. “If we’re going out, we might as well do it for real. Any idea what you want to do?”

“Not in the least,” Anne said, and while he didn’t see the assurance that had pushed her along anymore, he also didn’t see the fearful uncertainty that had crippled her so badly. “I was living in Yorktown when I was taken, but…”

An idea flared to life in Kirk’s mind. “My turn to make a call,” he said. “Computer, comm code for Hikaru Sulu. Personal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can guess which artist is playing at the beginning of the chapter, I'll give you the next chapter (or one of your choice) early :)


	13. Chapter 13

Walking toward the reporters took a little more bravery than Anne would have liked. At least she was smartly dressed and freshly scrubbed, with enough subtle use of cosmetics to cover the worst of the dark circles under her eyes and the telltale signs of the hangover. Kirk had met her at her door, dressed in a beat-up leather jacket and dark blue-grey shirt that made his eyes look even bluer. He’d grinned when he saw her light grey dress, cut like a cocktail dress but made of the same kind of jersey as his shirt. “Do you ever wear colors? Or pants?” **  
**

She’d elbowed him in the gut, gently, on her way out the door. “None of your business.”

A week ago she wouldn’t have been able to do that. The fact that she could now meant things were coming back. This whole evening would have been unthinkable a week ago.

There were a few scattered chirps as holos were taken of her and Kirk, the small group of reporters waiting expectantly. She’d had her agent call them to brief them that she wouldn’t be giving interviews until she was in a better mental state. Still, they tried. 

“Can you comment on the circumstances--”

“--writing a new book--

“--ongoing investigation--”

“--heard reports of--”

“--Captain?”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered, jokingly formal, grinning at the woman who’d changed her tack and gone after him. “Don’t I know you? I’m sure I’ve spoken to you before.”

The woman nodded eagerly, her bobbed hair bouncing. “Yes, sir, you gave me a statement after the Franklin incident. Can you tell us a little about the circumstances of the trial?”

Anne made herself smile. “I’m afraid we have other plans for our evening, but we do want to thank you for your patience in waiting for us. There is no ongoing investigation, and I’ll be remaining here in Yorktown for several weeks. Serious interview inquiries can be made with my agent, Mason Wright, based in London. You may also feel free to inquire about transcripts of the court session with Federation Justice. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to be late.”

“What happened to your hair?” one of the journalists asked as Anne began to walk away.

The question caught her off-guard enough that she broke her stride. Kirk didn’t expect it, but made his graceful sidestep into an offer of his arm, one that she accepted without thinking. That prompted her to continue walking alongside him; she tossed back over her shoulder, “Stress.”

The reporters didn’t follow them. Kirk hailed one of the nearby private cabs and ushered her inside. Once they were safely in the air, he said, “You realize almost everything you said was a lie, right?”

Anne shrugged, then frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm. Well, I hadn’t meant to tell you until it was confirmed, but I’ve requested that you be allowed to stay on board the Enterprise as a private consultant for the duration of our mission. Starfleet hasn’t decided yet, but I have no reason to think they’ll refuse.” Kirk leaned back, looking out of the window. “Between that and the fact that we are investigating, and that the court records are sealed until the apprehension of the rest of the smuggling ring…”

Anne felt as if she was suddenly slow. “You want me on the Enterprise? Why?” She'd expected them to stay at Yorktown for a day or two while the mind meld happened, and then to be off again, leaving her behind.

“Your insight would be useful.” Kirk grinned. “It helps that I like you, but I’m a captain first. I wouldn’t bring you along if I didn’t think you’d be any help.”

It felt almost as if there was ground under her feet again after a long period of weightlessness. Who knew how long the investigation would take? And she would be on the Enterprise, where she had started to feel comfortable. The crew that she had started to want to talk to. Her room.

“Thank you,” Anne murmured softly. Her eyes were tearing up a bit. “You have no idea how much that helps me.” She laughed softly. Mason was going to have a fit.

“It’s not confirmed yet,” Kirk said, with a crooked grin. “But I’m not worried.”

They spent the trip in idle conversation, and Anne marveled at how comfortable she was with him. She’d fallen asleep, or passed out, on him and woken up lying on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. No liberties had been taken by either of them during that entire night; she’d just talked with him, and slept on him, and been entirely safe. He couldn’t know how much that feeling of safety meant to her, and she couldn’t tell him. So she kept it light, laughing at his anecdotes, telling him stories of her own. Falling off a yacht into deep water on Aldebaran III. Crushing grapes for Risan wine. Sleeping in a swagger-lair on Sivao. Remembering herself, and her life before captivity.

“I still have a useful somewhere,” Anne said, frowning a little. “I can’t remember whether it’s in storage here or back on Risa. It was blue, with golden birds on it. I used to wear it as a dress, when I wasn't using it as a hammock or a tent.”

“So you do wear color,” Kirk teased.

Anne laughed. “I’m a writer, I’m allowed to be eccentric. I’m bad with colors, so I just ignore them. Too lazy to learn what’s flattering or not. I’m better with cuts.” She shrugged. “And… I just like wearing dresses. They’re quick and easy.”

“Mystery solved,” Kirk said, chuckling. “I’m more of a motorcycle person myself.”

The cab landed in one of the residential sections of Yorktown, in front of a tall building that seemed to be made entirely of glass. “Do you have one?” Anne asked as they stepped out, walking toward the building.

“I have an antique, a PX-70. I, uh, acquired it from a derelict ship that… well, it’s really a long story. I picked it up when I was on a salvage mission. It’s in storage here on Yorktown.” Kirk walked through the front door and punched in a code.

“Yes?” a voice answered.

“It’s Kirk, and Ms. Hardesty,” Kirk answered.

“Come on up.” There was a soft chime, and the inner door slid open.

Anne followed him to the elevator, shifting closer to him as the door opened. She knew they were going to meet Hikaru Sulu, and his partner Ben. She wasn’t sure why Kirk had decided this was the best course of action, but she trusted his judgement.

Sulu opened the door, greeting Kirk warmly. A slim man with an angular face, he had an air of assurance that Anne immediately liked. Kirk nodded to Anne. “Hikaru Sulu, this is Anne Hardesty.”

If Sulu knew about her circumstances, he didn’t show it. “Good to meet you. Come inside.” He smiled, and stepped aside to let them in.

The apartment was spacious and airy and natural-looking, the furniture and decorations simple, with lush plants growing here and there. It was a far cry from the stark whiteness and enclosed spaces of the Enterprise. Children’s toys were scattered on the floor. Anne pressed her lips together. She wasn’t very good with children. They made her nervous.

“Demora, Uncle Jim is here,” Sulu called.

A small blur with a mop of dark hair raced directly for Kirk, clinging to his leg. “We’re going to play football,” she declared, her little face set in determined lines as she looked up at Kirk.

“Demora,” Sulu cautioned.

“What, I don’t even rate a hello anymore?” Kirk asked, looking down at the child.

She frowned at him, but she said, “Hello. Now football.”

Kirk exchanged a glance with Sulu, and both of them seemed to resign themselves to being satisfied with that. “All right, we’ll go play. But first you have to say hello to Anne.”

Demora looked accusingly at Anne, as if Anne was responsible for the delay. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Anne said back, uncertain.

Fortunately, the child was too fixated on her game to care much. Kirk grinned at Anne and said, “I have to go take care of this. You can join in if you want.”

A smile rose to her lips. “Go have fun,” she said. Even if children made her a bit uncomfortable, it was still amusing to watch Kirk walk awkwardly off with Demora still clinging to his leg.

“Captain Kirk mentioned to me that you like to cook,” Sulu said, still grinning over his daughter’s behavior. “Ben was just about to start making dinner. Would you like to help him?”

The whole room suddenly seemed even more welcoming. Anne felt her smile brighten. “Oh, I’d love that. Thank you.”


	14. Chapter 14

It took Demora several games of “football”-- really just letting her throw the ball to Kirk and tackle him while he carefully tried to shake her off-- and a round of “wrestling”-- letting her pummel him with her fists and feet while swinging her around and dropping her on any well-cushioned surface-- before she was tired out. He’d caught the apprehension in Anne’s eyes when she’d seen Demora, but it seemed like as long as she didn’t have to try to interact with the four-year-old, Anne was fine. Maybe she just hadn’t had much to do with kids. God knew he didn’t. He’d just gotten to meet Sulu’s family while they’d been waiting for the Enterpise to be finished. He’d ended up visiting between his missions on the Endeavor, and Demora had decided he was her favorite person to beat on. **  
**

Sulu joined in for the last few games of “football”, and then sidelined himself to watch Kirk “wrestle” with Demora, laughing as Demora squealed. Every so often, Ben or Anne would wander over near where they were playing and watch; Anne’s eyes shone with humor as she watched Kirk pretend to be hurt by Demora’s tiny fists and feet.

Eventually, once Demora was tired out, Sulu gave her dinner and Ben excused himself to put her to bed-- after a sleepy goodbye to Anne and a hug for Kirk, of course. Kirk seated himself at the kitchen table with Sulu and tossed around the idea that he might also want to buy a home on Yorktown base. Kirk wasn’t sure it was the right choice for him at the moment, but Sulu kept trying to convince him that it was a good idea to invest in a place where he could eventually live. Kirk didn’t fight too hard over it, but privately thought he might prefer something that had a yard-- a few acres of it, if possible.

Still, his eyes were constantly drawn to Anne, enough that Sulu noticed and raised his eyebrows as if to ask him what was going on. Kirk just shook his head, which made Sulu look thoughtful for a few moments. Thankfully, he said nothing and didn’t address the subject again, even when Kirk’s gaze crept back to Anne. She just looked so… contented. He liked seeing her like that.

Using a knife with a beautiful rippling grain, Anne had sliced thin strips off a piece of sirloin and dropped them in some mixture of ingredients that Ben had put together before he left. After she was finished, she’d turned and glanced nervously at Kirk, hesitating to interrupt their conversation. Kirk had immediately given her an opening, and she’d flashed him a grateful look before asking Sulu how Ben preferred the knife to be washed. Sulu had known exactly what she’d been talking about, and had said something about using just a small amount of soap on the blade only, disinfectant on the wooden handle, and then drying it immediately before using it on anything else. Kirk hadn’t known that something as utilitarian as a knife would need special care.

Ben returned fairly quickly, and Kirk found himself watching the way he and Anne interacted. They’d grown used to each other’s movements by now and worked in concert, moving around each other as if they anticipated where the other would need to be next. Ben handed Anne some onions, and Anne gave them back in chunks ready to be added to the wok. The same with the garlic, and the bell peppers, and the tomatoes. Kirk got the feeling that there was something important about the order things were being put into the wok. 

“They’re good,” Kirk said to Sulu. “They look like they’ve worked together for years.” And they were talking that way too, Ben’s square face animated as he talked about traveling from his home in China to Paris with his mother when he was young. Anne had barely even spoken to him and he just opened right up, blossoming into chattiness under that intense, intimate silver gaze of hers. Kirk knew the feeling, but it was fascinating to watch her from a distance. Anne pulled the sirloin strips out of the white mixture and briefly fried them on their own in a smaller wok while Ben tossed the vegetables, listening attentively to Ben’s story the entire time, encouraging him to give her more details, her eyes more unguarded and content than Kirk had ever seen them before.

“Ben’s not usually so talkative,” Sulu said, grinning. “If he likes her enough to tell her the Paris stories, she’s in with him.”

“Thanks for having us over on such short notice,” Kirk said, his smile crooked. “You heard about the journalists, right?”

“Yeah, I know the deal. It’s always good having you here, though. Demora loves you.” Sulu’s expression darkened. “We ship out the day after tomorrow, right?”

Kirk nodded. He didn’t want to think about the smugglers right now. “Once we have them, back here to stay for a real shore leave while we testify.” Two whole weeks, at least, guaranteed by Command. Kirk would have the chance to take his motorcycle out for a spin.

Sulu sighed. “That’ll be nice. I know I’m lucky that we stop here so often, but most of the time it’s not long enough for me to really feel at home.”

Kirk felt a tiny pang of envy. Sulu was away from his family a lot, but he had a warmth and closeness here that Kirk sometimes wanted. He knew, however, that it would come at the expense of his ship, and the Enterprise always came first.

“Here we go,” Ben said, bringing a large serving dish to the table. Colorful, spicy, and fragrant, the dish looked incredibly enticing. It was simple fare; thinly sliced sirloin with bell peppers and tomato, served over rice, but the two cooks had known exactly what they were doing and the dish reflected their precision. Kirk wondered if Ben was as good with the burgers and bits of Japanese food Sulu liked, and if so, whether Ben had learned for Sulu’s sake. He thought it was likely.

Kirk and Sulu grabbed their plates and began to dish up while Ben and Anne tidied the kitchen, still chatting about the Louvre. Eventually they too sat, Ben grabbing his plate and Anne watching with satisfaction.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” Kirk asked. The dish was fantastic, tantalizing his tastebuds in a way that synthesized food could never match. 

“In a bit. Sometimes when you cook, you feel like you’ve already eaten by the time dinner’s ready.” Anne laughed softly. “And sometimes you just want to watch people appreciate what you’ve done.”

Ben nodded, looking as if this was familiar territory for him. “That happens to me too.”

“And not just sometimes,” Sulu teased, grinning at his partner. “A lot of the time.” He stood, picking a bottle from a nearby wine rack and opening it, pouring some into a glass for Anne. “Here. This should help with your appetite. It’s called huangjiu.”

Anne looked apprehensively at it, and then glanced at Kirk, who couldn’t help a snicker. Frowning at him in a way that didn’t seem entirely serious, she sipped the drink, closing her eyes as if that helped to taste it better.

Sulu offered a glass to Kirk as well, and Kirk took it, shaking his head and grinning ruefully before he took a sip. “What’s the joke, Captain?” Sulu asked, pouring for himself and Ben.

“You have no idea how hung over we are right now,” Kirk said, with a wry laugh. “Apparently we shouldn’t be allowed to talk about classical music in a room full of odds and ends of rotgut booze.”

Anne pressed her lips together, glancing from Sulu to Ben, and seemed to decide she could speak freely in front of them. Their visible amusement might have helped with that. “If you hadn’t kept on finding more liquor, we wouldn’t have gotten so hung over.” Sulu and Ben glanced at each other as if they’d had this sort of conversation at some point.

“I had to keep finding more,” Kirk said. “You kept matching me shot for shot.” He frowned suddenly, looking at her. “How did you do that, anyway? You’re tiny.” Her head barely reached his chin, and she weighed about as much as a housecat.

Anne raised her eyebrows at him, as if he should already have known. “I cheated a little with the Ktarian vodka because it tasted like setting rotten eggs on fire. The rest-- writer, remember? I practically drink for a living. I think my liver has callouses.”

Kirk just shook his head, making a disgusted noise. Sulu was laughing at him. Ben, on the other hand, was curious. “What have you written?” he asked, suddenly even more interested in Anne.

“Oh… just horse and gun stories. The Ancient West.” Anne shifted, a little embarrassed, and Kirk decided he would try to take the focus off her work. It wasn’t a good topic when she wasn’t sure she could write.

“She’s being modest,” Kirk said. “Even I read her books. They make me want to get a horse of my own.”

“Where would you even keep a horse?” Sulu asked, snickering at the idea. 

“What, you can’t put them in a storage locker?” Kirk deadpanned, earning him a smack on the arm from Anne. “Ouch,” he said, even though it hadn’t hurt in the least. He pretended offense. “Can’t I go for even an hour without being hit by a girl?”

“If you can’t, you should probably rethink your life choices,” Anne said dryly, finally helping herself to some of the food. “You were right about the drink,” she said to Sulu, her voice warm. “Thank you.”

Sulu stifled his laughter, his dark eyes still sparking with good humor. “It works on Ben every time. It’s a traditional Chinese wine made from millet. Have you ever been to China?”

Anne’s eyes widened in an expression that Kirk knew well, that avid interest in others’ experiences. “No, I only got as close as Vietnam. I’d love to hear about it.”

After Ben and Sulu’s discussion of what it was like to have their honeymoon in China and Anne’s cross-examination about cultural misunderstandings in a Chinese-Japanese-American marriage, the conversation ranged from topic to topic, Kirk and Sulu trying to steer it away from Starfleet or their upcoming mission. As Kirk had learned already, Anne was an agile conversationalist, familiar with a range of subjects, including sciences that were useless to most civilians. She seemed to home in on that when she realized that astrophysics was Sulu’s area of expertise. While she couldn’t keep up with him, she encouraged him to talk and listened intently to his answers, asking questions when he mentioned fascinating phenomena like binary star orbits or the formation of Oort clouds. None of them were really on his level; he’d had a PhD by the time he was twenty-five. He was willing to tone it down for them, though, so the conversation was interesting, although Sulu had to explain a few things.

When it grew late, Kirk and Anne began to excuse themselves. “We really can’t stay any longer. I’ve got to be in the big chair at 0700, making sure the ship’s ready to go.” Kirk grinned, half wishing he didn’t have to do it, and half wishing he was already there.

“It’s been great having you here,” Ben said, looking at Anne. He seemed to have taken to her quite strongly.

“I’ve really enjoyed myself,” Anne replied, her shining eyes sincere. “Thank you so much for letting me help in the kitchen. I love to cook, and it’s been such a long time.” Her expression darkened just a little.

Sulu glossed over that faint darkness with graceful aplomb. “We’re really glad you came. Maybe we can get together once we’re on shore leave?”

Kirk glanced at Anne, who nodded. “Sounds good. We’ll work out the details before we get back from the mission.”

They said their goodbyes with pleasure, and as Kirk and Anne left the apartment building to hail a cab, Kirk reflect that this had been an excellent choice. Ben and Sulu were a dose of normality, Demora was Demora, and their apartment was always welcoming. Anne had enjoyed the chance to cook, and she seemed to have enjoyed the chance to just relax into an ordinary evening with friends.

As they sat in the cab on the way back, Kirk couldn’t stop himself from asking the question that had been on his mind since he’d noticed Sulu and Ben treating them like a couple. “Was that a date? That seemed like a date.”

Anne looked quizzically at him, her expressive eyes capturing his. “I’m not sure. I guess it depends on your intentions.”

“My intentions are strictly honorable,” Kirk said. But he couldn’t leave it at just that, even though he knew she wouldn’t quite believe him. “Well, mostly. Mostly honorable.”

Anne chuckled. “Well, I suppose that makes it not a date.” She pretended to consider. “Mostly not a date.”

“But a little bit of a date?” Kirk teased. It was good to see her so relaxed.

Anne smiled that half-mysterious smile, the one that Kirk found so enticing. “Maybe a little bit of a date.”

The cab landed outside the Enterprise’s bay, and Kirk held the door for Anne as they got out. A few of the journalists remained outside the docking passage; again, there were a couple of chirps as they took holos. Kirk wondered what could possibly be so interesting about the two of them exiting a cab. 

Taking his arm as she had before, Anne murmured to him, “I don’t know what to say to them.” She stayed closer to him than was strictly necessary, though in this case it was out of nervousness.

“I’ve got your back. You’ll think of something,” Kirk kept his expression pleasantly neutral for the cameras. 

“Thank you,” Anne said, leaning into him for a moment. Her expression mirroring his, they began to walk toward the journalists. 

There was a flurry of questions, as before, but Anne only coolly said, “For an interview, please talk to my agent. Otherwise, have a good night.” That didn’t please anyone, but it got them past without incident.

At Anne’s door, Kirk stopped. Again, her eyes caught him, the grey seeming to shine the color of mist in sunlight. “You don’t know how much this meant to me,” she murmured. “You honestly can’t know.” The barely-perceptible smile on her lips made them look incredibly inviting.

Kirk must have watched her too long before replying, because the smile and the gratitude faded, replaced by another, darker emotion aimed at him. Those eyes on him, holding that emotion, were a potent combination that threatened to upset his resolve.

He wasn’t going to follow her into her room. That would be too much. Ruthlessly stomping down the part of him that wanted very much to release that soft darkness in her, he said, “Have a good night, Anne. I’ll see you tomorrow.” His voice was the tiniest bit rough.

She didn’t reply, not in words. Her eyes widened, as if the sound of his voice woke her to the existence of that tempting shadow between them, and he saw fear arrow through her as she realized that it was close enough to disappear into. Backing away, she slipped into her room, the door sliding shut behind her. Kirk lingered for a while longer than he cared to admit, the urge to follow her even stronger now, whether he meant to comfort or not, or both. Reason won out, and he left for his own quarters.

Anne paused once inside her cabin, after the door had slid shut behind her. She knew, knew, that he was just outside, wanting to come in as badly as she wanted him to. She could almost feel his lips again, taste him, lean against the memory of the solid warmth of him.

And it was terrifying. Not just the depth of that want, but the other bits and pieces of memories that threatened to turn that sweetness putrid, to taint it just by the fact that they existed. If he opened the door, she wasn’t sure if she would welcome him with open arms, or if she would run screaming. Or even if she wanted to turn around and go back out to him, and deal with whatever consequences that had.

But as time wore on, the doors stayed closed. Anne stayed on her side of them, not sure if it was the right thing to do, certain that it was not what she wanted, but at least it was the smart thing to do.

* * *

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/166719980336/walking-wounded-deleted-scene-5)


	15. Chapter 15

The bridge crew wasn’t all back yet, but they didn’t need to be. Kirk was reviewing the stores and the repairs that had been done. He didn’t strictly need to; Scotty had handled the repairs, and there was a whole team of people to keep track of what they had in storage, but he would never have left port without making certain he had also gone over these things. A couple of members of the bridge crew flitted about, checking systems and running tests. Kirk wanted the Enterprise in top shape for their upcoming expedition. But then, he always wanted the Enterprise in top shape. He felt like he was settling into the rhythms of this new ship, like it was becoming an extension of him, the way the old one had been.

As he was running extra tests on the navigational and weaponry systems, glancing from his padd to the status screens, Bones stepped onto the bridge, followed by a stunning woman with dark hair and rich tawny skin, dressed in the Sciences uniform. “Bones,” Kirk said, setting down his padd. “Did you need something?”

“Just bringing you the candidate for the open Medical position. Starfleet’s approved her transfer to the Enterprise, but I know you’ll be cranky if you don’t get your say in it.” Bones handed him another padd, one with a list of credentials on it.

“Claudia Hayes. Good to meet you.” The woman stretched out one elegantly manicured hand, and Kirk shook it. Her heart-shaped face remained pleasant, but Kirk thought he saw a flash of interest there.

“Doctor Hayes has been pioneering a branch of psychological practice that Starfleet hasn’t yet recognized as necessary,” Bones said. “I studied with her on Earth.”

Kirk raised his eyebrows. “Good choice.” Anne needed this sort of thing. He looked back to Dr. Hayes. “Do you mind if we do this here? I have some tests running that I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t mind at all. When Dr. McCoy contacted me, I jumped at the chance to practise on the Enterprise. Deep space missions are hard on the psyche, and I’ve been pushing Starfleet to include counseling on all vessels that are on missions longer than one month. They’ve been waffling about it so far, but I hope that by practising as part of the crew I can show a measurable increase of satisfaction and health on the Enterprise.” Dr. Hayes flashed a smile at him. While the speech sounded rehearsed, Kirk noted that she seemed entirely sincere. “I’m also a medical doctor; I just choose to focus on psychiatric and psychological medicine.”

Kirk grinned, and answered, “We’ll probably have use for all your skills here. The Enterprise has run into some… interesting situations over the course of our five year mission.” He skimmed over the padd, reading quickly. Her credentials were top-notch. She’d practised medicine all over Earth, and trained on Vulcan before it was destroyed. She’d specialized in psychiatry and taken a PhD in psychology as well. She seemed to be exactly the kind of person they needed.

Bones would have done the digging into her background already, and Kirk trusted his judgment. Not to mention, Anne would benefit greatly from having support like this aboard the ship. “Welcome aboard,” Kirk finally said.

“That’s it? No more questions?” she asked, her eyebrows arched in surprise.

“We actually have a specific need for a psychologist. One of the crew members has been deeply traumatized, and she’s in need of support.” Kirk handed the padd back to Bones, who took it, scowling.

“Since when is she a crew member?” McCoy growled.

Kirk was ready for this one. “Since Command saw her old aptitude tests. Commodore Paris decided giving her a temporary rank of Crewman was the best way to justify her presence on the ship without having to admit anything to the media and risk shooting holes in the mission. We can't conceal consultant records, but we can conceal crew records. She’s in Engineering, under Scotty.” And that wasn’t the extent of the Commodore’s interference either; after all that fuss about the media, she’d slapped a gag order on that story anyway. Not that he could regret the date he got out of it. Kirk glanced down at his tests, and made some fine adjustments to the weaponry system, still speaking. “Dr. Hayes, we’ll take you on for the duration of this mission and see if you fit with the crew. This is a trial, not a permanent assignment. That spot in Medical has remained empty since Christine Chapel left, not because we couldn’t find candidates, but because we couldn’t find the right candidate.”

Wait, wasn't that a Nursing position? Kirk glanced suspiciously at Bones, who just frowned back as if to ask if he was going to make something of it. Well, if Bones hadn't just kicked her out, he probably had a good reason. Kirk decided he’d just let it slide for now and see how things went. It was only a trial anyway.

“I can respect that, Captain. I’ll do my best.” Dr. Hayes was saying. She smiled at him, and Kirk noted that she was especially pretty when she smiled.

“I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.” Kirk smiled back automatically, his grin as charming as always. “Bones, get her settled in her quarters and the med bay. I’ll be on the bridge until 2300 hours if you need me.”

“All right,” Bones answered, looking mildly perturbed. “Come on, Claudia.”

Kirk turned away, looking back down at his tests. There was a little blip that he just couldn’t pin down. Maybe once Chekov was back on the ship, he could take care of it. Kirk wouldn’t call him back from shore leave to do it, though. There was no need for that. Besides, he was probably with someone. Kirk looked down at his own padd and saw that he had a message-- it was from Anne. Now that she had a rank, she could use the ship’s systems and equipment rather than relying on the limited voice access system.

_Dinner at 2330?_

That was all it said, but it brought a smile to Kirk’s face. He answered back.

_Yes, but no more Saurian brandy. I have to work at 0700._

He knew she’d realize it was a joke. Dinner would cut into his sleep time, but it gave him something to look forward to after his shift. He switched back to his lists of configurations and started to check the helm systems.

 

“So we’re on the same shift rotation,” Kirk said, watching Anne as he ate his meal. It was Thai food, pleasantly spicy and rich with coconut milk. The synth was good, but it couldn’t compare to Ben and Anne’s cooking the day before. There was a depth of flavor that was lacking, something hard to define but unmistakable. “Lucky, I guess. We could have had opposite shifts. Are you still repairing phasers?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll find out tomorrow morning.” Anne sighed. “We won’t have time to meet before our shifts start.” She looked ambivalent. Kirk knew that talking about her experiences had been hard on her, but he also knew that in a strange way she’d taken some pleasure in the release of painful memories. Letting them out and talking them over with someone had helped her immensely; the change in her was staggering. She smiled so much more often, and she wasn’t anywhere near as timid as she used to be.

“There’s a psychologist on board the ship now,” Kirk said, somewhat reluctantly. He liked to be the one she leaned on, but he knew that she needed trained support, and those memories of hers were… bad. He wouldn’t avoid hearing about it, if she needed to talk, but he hated thinking of all that happening to her. “You should make an appointment.”

Anne was still for a moment, that same reluctance clouding her silvery eyes. “Did you do that?” she asked, her voice shaded with uncertainty.

“Bones found her. I just heard about this today. I have final say, so I put her on a trial. We’ll take her on this mission and see if she’s a benefit to the ship. If not, she’s out.” Kirk watched Anne closely. “Is something wrong?”

She was already relaxing. “No, nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking that’s going to cut into my free time.”

Kirk heard the unsaid words. _That cuts into the time I spend with you._ Suddenly, he understood her reluctance. “I’m sure we can work around that.”

Anne smiled crookedly, a smile that Kirk couldn’t interpret. Her eyes were shadowed, her long lashes veiling her from him. Her back straightened, as if she were bracing for a heavy weight. “And that in turn makes it harder for me to tell you something that you need to know before we find anything on this mission.”

Kirk sat up straighter, his interest cautiously piqued even though this didn’t sound like it was going to be anything good. “Whatever it was that you wanted to say on the day of the trial,” he guessed, and he saw his guess hit the mark when she flinched.

Anne set down her chopsticks and closed her eyes, as if she didn’t want to see his reaction. “I planned and carried out a murder when I was in Loche’s captivity. I beat her to death with a statue.”

Kirk almost dropped his chopsticks. “That’s… that’s a pretty big admission.” He wondered if he’d have to defend her in a trial.

Anne opened her eyes, warily considering him. It wasn’t quite the feral, watchful look from before, but it was close. Kirk found that he didn’t like being watched that way, not by her. “She had tried to poison me several times. I couldn’t find a way to stop her from trying, and I knew that eventually I would slip and I would die. Loche thought it was amusing; he liked to turn his captives against each other. So I killed her. There was no other rational action.”

Kirk sat back, studying Anne’s face. Her mouth was set in a determined line, but Kirk could see distant horror in her eyes. He sighed, and said, “You may have to go to trial for this. I doubt they would convict you, but they might still have to investigate.” He frowned. “And I have to report it.” He checked the time. “It’s after midnight. So technically it’s the day we’re underway.” Shrugging, he added, “I’ve already finished my reports for the night. I’ll put it in the next one.”

Anne’s shoulders relaxed, her eyes softening. She knew the ship would already be far from Yorktown at that point, so any investigation would have to wait until they returned. “Thank you. I knew it would come out eventually, whether in investigation or in the mind meld. I thought… I thought you should know that about me before someone else made me say it.”

Kirk felt a reluctant smile tug his lips, in spite of the subject. “You did what you had to do to survive in a hard and terrifying situation. That’s not a reflection on what you do outside of that situation.” Considering his options, he added. “I suggest you bring it up with Dr. Hayes immediately, so she can make up a preliminary profile of you and send it along with my report. We’ll establish that you’re not a danger to the crew, and it shouldn’t change anything.” Or at least he hoped not. “You’re sure you want to go through with the mind meld?”

Frowning, her mouth set, Anne answered, “Yes. I don’t like it, and I don’t want to do it, but… these things are just too painful for me. Mr. Spock may be able to see them at a distance and gain some useful information.” Her frown deepened, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s frightening,” she said simply. “My mind was my only refuge, and I don’t want to let someone else into it.”

“Would it help to know what a mind meld is like?” Kirk asked.

Anne stilled again, then asked, “Have you mind melded with someone?”

“It’s a long story,” Kirk said, shaking his head. “It was just after Vulcan was destroyed, and it was very directed, very focused. It was to convey a lot of information to me in a very short time.” Kirk pushed a synthesized shrimp around on his plate. “That’s not quite what you’ll be doing.” An idea struck him. “Uhura has probably mind melded with Spock. I can ask her if she’ll talk to you about it.”

“That would be good,” Anne said cautiously.

It was time to steer the conversation away from heavy things. “You should get to know her anyway. She really enjoyed Sivao, once we had the plague under control. And she has a close Eeiauoan friend.” Kirk grinned. “You’d have something to talk about.”

Anne’s expression lightened. “Did I tell you I found my useful? I had my storage bring me a few of my things. I wanted it to feel a little more like home in here.”

Kirk glanced around the room. He’d been so fixated on Anne that he’d barely noticed the changes to the room. A soft rug was on the floor, a few pieces of art on the walls, some stone or wooden sculptures scattered around. The whole effect spoke of someone who loved beautiful things, but preferred the primitive and abstract to the classical. She must have spent her whole mass allowance on art. “It looks great,” he said, “and I’m sorry I didn’t notice before, but I was looking at you.”

Anne’s cheeks colored faintly, almost the only spot of color on her. She’d worn black today, and it looked very severe with her pale skin and upswept silver hair. It must have been something she’d brought aboard herself-- the lace overlay and full skirt were definitely not Starfleet issue. “Are you flirting with me again?” she asked, her teasing tone failing to mask a mixture of warmth and hesitance.

“I could be. Or I could just have been honest. Or both.” Kirk said it as lightly as he could, trying to give her the chance to draw whatever conclusion she felt most comfortable with.

“I thought that sort of thing was off-limits for at least a week.” Anne raised one silvery brow, looking at him sidelong, as if she couldn’t quite face him head-on. Her gaze was shy, but not evasive, not discouraging-- it flicked over him like someone tentatively running a feather over his body, not sure what the reaction would be, whether his or hers.

Kirk felt a curl of want stirring low in his belly and had to remind himself, rather firmly, that desire did not constitute an invitation, and that her hesitance had some extremely good reasons behind it. “Five more days, technically, and it was kissing that was off-limits. No one said anything about flirting.” He paused. “Although I can stop if it bothers you.”

She shook her head, and her mouth made a perfect, soundless little ‘no’. When he looked in her eyes, he saw that shyness starting to shade into other things. “I’m a little frightened of this too,” she said, and he knew she was understating the case.

“It’ll be all right, Anne.” Kirk gave her a crooked smile. “We’re friends, if nothing else.”

Anne bit her lip, watching him with a mixture of distress and desire, the feelings clearly evident in those dangerously expressive eyes. It wasn’t clear which was winning the struggle yet. “That’s true.” She relaxed slowly, then smiled.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Violence/gore.**

Doctor Claudia Hayes was an amazingly attractive woman. Anne was intimidated-- with her mousy hair and pale eyes, she had never seen herself as pretty, and had sometimes wished she had the darkly flashing eyes, perfect brown curls, and rich fawn-colored skin that Dr. Hayes had. Anne had always been too angular, too washed out, to aspire to that sort of thing. But it never really mattered until a situation like this, where she was faced with a beauty that she wistfully wished she had. **  
**

Dr. Hayes’ lush lips curved a little before she spoke. “I’m glad you made your appointment so quickly. Dr. McCoy had already said that I would be seeing you, so I read up on your file yesterday. I’m familiar with your circumstances, or at least all he knew of them. Where would you like to start?”

Closing her eyes to shut out the bland, small office and the Pre-Raphaelite beauty in it, Anne debated with herself, weighing the options. Ease in, or plunge into the deep end? She remembered Kirk’s words from the night before, and felt herself smirk a little. Well, she had to spill it today so Kirk could attach it to his report, so she might as well take the plunge. Gathering her nerve, she said, “Doctor Hayes, I’ve murdered someone. Captain Kirk recommended that you make a profile of me so that he can send it along to Starfleet Command this evening, when he reports it.”

To Anne’s surprise and relief, Dr. Hayes’ only reaction was to say, “You’re a very straightforward person, aren’t you?” 

Anne laughed softly, bitterly. “Sometimes, yes, when I feel safe enough.”

“And you felt safe enough to tell me this immediately rather than sounding me out to see how I would react.” Dr. Hayes was watching her closely, curiously. She didn’t seem at all rattled to be sitting in a room with an admitted murderer.

That lack of reaction was comforting; Anne felt her shoulders relax. “The Captain recommended it.”

“You’re not worried that he’ll put you in the brig for the duration of the mission?” She was even more curious now, tapping notes on her padd as she spoke.

“He knows I’m not dangerous.” A tiny smile came unbidden to Anne’s lips. The idea was almost laughable. She was afraid of her own shadow half the time. She still jumped when people approached her from behind.

Again, Dr. Hayes tapped out notes on her padd, and when she was finished, she looked at Anne with those beautiful dark eyes, her gaze probing. “How does he know this?”

There was no point in being evasive. Anne was here to get help, not to play games. “I told him the circumstances. He believes me because up until the trial I had been practicing talking about my… my captivity… with him. It helped. Without his support I probably wouldn’t have been able to testify.”

“What’s your relationship with him?” The question was loaded, but the doctor didn’t know that yet. Anne knew she was simply trying to analyze Anne’s actions and reactions, building her profile. They would approach the murder in a roundabout way, after establishing her personality and her intentions. Anne reflected that Dr. Hayes was using a blunter, more powerful version of what she did in conversation.

Bringing her mind back to the question at hand, Anne realized she had already given something away by the length of time it had taken for her to answer. Not to mention that Dr. McCoy had probably added something to her file about the drunken night after the trial. “We are friends. There’s some attraction, but we haven’t acted on it and are not currently acting on it. I trust him, and that he took my word on the murder without prying tells me he trusts me.”

Dr. Hayes’ fingers tapped the padd for a little longer. “That’s very honest of you. Thank you. Although you realize the attraction could be seen as bias on his part. Is he right to trust you?”

“I think so. I don’t have any desire to hurt the crew members, or any other person aside from… sometimes… wanting to hurt the people who enslaved me.” Anne paused, and then added, “Most of the time I’d rather just have them stopped, although I wouldn’t be bothered if they died.”

“That’s a perfectly normal reaction,” Dr. Hayes said, smiling a little. “So, who did you murder?”

Her bluntness was meant to shock Anne into saying something she shouldn’t have. In this case, however, Anne was all right being completely honest. “Her name was Brynna. She and I were both captives of a man named Loche. She had fallen in love with him, but he was rather… involved with me, as I was new. She attempted to poison me six times that I am aware of, and possibly more that I am not aware of. She was pregnant with Loche’s child, near term.”

Fingers pattered softly on the padd again, and Dr. Hayes nodded. “Under the same circumstances, I might have done the same. Did you have any other recourse?”

“I don’t think so. Loche found it amusing to set his… I suppose you would call them concubines… against each other. He spoke to me about the poisoning attempts after the third one. He told me I had better do something about it before Brynna managed to pull it off. I’m fairly certain he provided her with the poison himself. I can’t think of any other way she would have gotten it.” Anne hugged herself, remembering this part all too clearly. “I asked her to stop. I told her I didn’t want Loche’s attention. I told her he would come back to her eventually. I told her Loche’s child would make her more important than me. Nothing I said made any difference. She loathed me. I couldn’t think of anything else that would work.”

Those dark eyes were again searching, looking to see the truth. Dr. Hayes asked, “Did you have any allies?”

“No. I believe it was because of capture-bonding. All of the other captives were varying degrees of jealous or indifferent to me. There were seventeen of them. They loved him. I don’t know why I didn’t turn out the same way...” Anne trailed off, and then picked up again. “I couldn’t let myself. He was… he was sick.”

Dr. Hayes leaned forward a little, her interest very evident. The padd had been forgotten for the moment. “You seem to be familiar with psychology terms. Did you realize at the time that failing to bond with Loche decreased your chances of survival?”

“Yes. I’ve always been interested in psychology. I could never be what he wanted me to be, but I couldn’t just decide not to survive either. I couldn’t give up like that. I kept myself alive for the chance to get out, but… had Brynna killed me, I probably would have been relieved.” Anne’s voice trembled, the first time in the whole conversation. Without Kirk’s help, she probably wouldn’t have been able to talk to Dr. Hayes without starting to cry just because the memories were so close to the surface.

Perhaps it was that tremble in her voice that reminded Dr. Hayes of the notes she was taking. She smiled ruefully, and it looked absolutely gorgeous. “I’m sorry, I have to write these notes to make up your profile. Give me a moment.” Anne wondered if Dr. Hayes was saying that to give Anne time to collect herself, but she kept writing things on the padd, and Anne concluded that she must be actually taking notes. “All right, I’m caught up. Now, this is a very strange situation. Most people would call what you did self-defense, but you’re calling it murder.. Why is that?”

“It was murder. Even if she was trying to kill me, I planned out how to take her life and I did it. I bribed the guards the only way I could, and I snuck into her room and beat her head in with one of the statues Loche had given her.” Anne could remember that night clearly-- the disgust with herself for her actions with the guards, the fear that she would be caught, the fear that Brynna would wake up, the weight of the stone statue in her hands, so heavy it was almost hard to swing, the gratitude that the walls were thick stone covered by tapestries that would muffle sound… and then that first blow, caving in the side of Brynna’s head, her own terror at herself and what she was doing, her burning need to stay alive to escape… Brynna’s twitching and spasming as she tried to get out of the bed, and the second blow that bashed in her nose and broke her upper jaw, her teeth shattering and slicing open her lips… and after that, all the blows that followed, the ones that left Anne spattered with blood and bone and bits of brain, the ones that she’d thrown because of a hysterical catharsis that left her crying and shaking when she finally lowered the statue, Brynna’s head no longer recognizable as anything resembling human, or even having a shape of its own. The headless, pregnant body that had fallen to the floor. The itching as the hairs and shards of bone that were pasted to Anne’s arms with blood started drying in place. Anne realized she had started to cry. “I’m sorry. My memories of that night are… bad.”

Dr. Hayes reached over and set a stack of absorbent tissues near her elbow, pretending she didn’t see how Anne flinched away when she drew close. “I see that. It’s a bit early to properly diagnose you, but I’m certain you have complex post-traumatic stress disorder.”

Anne smiled weakly. “Tell me something I don’t already know. Anyway, I thought you were profiling me.”

“A bit of both,” Dr. Hayes said. “There are a few more questions I need to ask, but they’re mostly formality at this point. Between the circumstances of your-- I believe the legal term is still justifiable homicide-- and the fact that Dr. McCoy credits you with preventing the deaths of crew members by not only providing information about the smugglers but also fighting in defense of the ship, I am inclined to agree with the Captain that you pose no threat whatsoever to the crew members on the Enterprise.”

“Are you even supposed to be telling me this?” Anne asked, uncertain.

Dr. Hayes smiled reassuringly. “You’re not going to see what I actually send to Starfleet Command, but I’m allowed to let you know what’s in it. Now, the formality questions. Do you have any grudges or issues with any member of this crew?”

Anne replied, “I don’t know anyone but Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, Lieutenant Commander Scott, and Lieutenant Sulu, and I have no issues with any of them. They can confirm that.”

“Have you ever had any episodes of lost time, hallucination, depersonalization, derealization?” Dr. Hayes paused. “Do you need the definitions of those?”

“No, and no,” Anne said

It looked as if Dr. Hayes was going down a list. “Do you have a problem with recreational drugs, illegal substances, or alcohol?” 

“No.”

Dr. Hayes’ eyebrows rose. “Not even after stressful situations such as testifying at a trial?”

Anne looked away, embarrassed. “The occasional stressful situation and, um, juvenile reaction to it doesn’t make a pattern of behavior.”

“I’m just asking you about that because Dr. McCoy was in the middle of meeting with me when he got called away because Captain Kirk wouldn’t answer his door.” Dr. Hayes glanced sympathetically at her. “We’ve all done it at some point, and you have more reason than some. Not that I suggest repeating it.”

“I wish I could reassure you on that score, but I’m afraid Captain Kirk and I egged each other on,” Anne said ruefully. “I can’t guarantee that won’t happen again, although we might have gotten it out of our systems.”

“Why don’t you call him James?” Dr. Hayes asked, her dark eyes curious. “Why is it always Captain Kirk? You seem friendly enough with him that I would imagine you’re allowed to use his first name.”

Anne smiled. “Jim. He prefers Jim. I don’t call him that unless it’s just the two of us.”

“And how often does that happen?” Dr. Hayes asked, then added, “I should clarify that now I’m doing the ‘getting to know you’ part of things that I usually get around to before the secrets come out.”

Anne laughed, a short near-silent puff of air. She didn’t believe Dr. Hayes, but she would play along. “Yes, well, I had things that needed to get done before we went any further. To answer your question… I don’t think a single day has gone by without spending time with him. In the beginning because he wanted to know if I could help them with information on the smuggling ring, then because I needed help before the trial, and then because we enjoyed each others’ company.” Anne shrugged. “It was a fast but natural development. I’m... I _was_ … used to that sort of thing before my captivity, although this has been faster than most.”

Dr. Hayes nodded, setting aside her padd. “Did you feel used by his interest in information?”

Earnestly shaking her head, Anne asked, “Why would I? That’s his job. He wants that information because it could help to keep the ship safe, or to find the smugglers faster. I want to give him that information, but I can’t, because… I just lock up. It’s too painful to try to remember what went on.” Anne sighed. “I should tell you, I’ve been offered a mind meld and I’m accepting the offer, even though I don’t want to do it.”

“Then why are you doing it?” Dr. Hayes asked.

“He wants anything I can give to help him. I want to give it to him. I can’t see any other way to go about it at this point.” Anne looked away, then back at Dr. Hayes. “I don’t want to let someone into my mind but if what I know can somehow help us, then I need to get at that information.”

“I strongly advise against the mind meld at this time. You’re already traumatized. A mind meld could exacerbate it.” Dr. Hayes smirked, not at Anne, but at the situation. “But I’m also realistic enough to know that you’ll probably do it regardless. So what I’ll say to you is that you should have a third party with you during the mind meld, and someone with you for the next day or so afterward. In fact, I recommend you come to the med bay for the meld just to make sure that you aren’t suffering any ill effects.

Anne nodded. “I can arrange for both of those things.” Kirk would probably stay with her during the meld, if she asked him to. And going to the med bay to stay for a day or so seemed like a reasonable precaution.

“Good. Now, let’s move on. You mentioned your life before your captivity. Tell me a little about that.”


	17. Chapter 17

When Kirk stepped through Anne’s door, he saw instantly that she looked exhausted. “Are you all right?” he asked, immediately crossing the room to where she was. She looked like she was about to keel over any second. Any private question he might have had about whether her emotions had settled evaporated. Now was not the time.  


“Ever since I met with Dr. Hayes, I feel so drained,” Anne said, dropping into the chair that he pulled out for her and looking gratefully up at him. “I tried to nap but it didn’t really help anything, I’m afraid.”

“I can leave if you want,” Kirk said, jerking a thumb toward the door behind him. “I don’t want to keep you awake--”

“No, no,” Anne said. “I don’t want you to leave. I haven’t eaten yet anyway. But-- I might not be the world’s best conversationalist.”

Somewhere in that little hitch, she had changed what she was going to say. He was sure of it. “That’s not the sentence you started,” he said skeptically, leaning back to half-sit on the as-yet barren dinner table. “Out with it.”

Anne looked drolly up at him. “Aye aye, sir.” Kirk tried to stifle a smile. “But it might not be the night for anything too intensive.”

He couldn’t stop himself from teasing, knowing that she would catch the complete lack of intent behind it. “You had something intensive planned otherwise?” Kirk said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“And that’s why I didn’t say that. I’m not up to verbal acrobatics.” Kirk felt both his eyebrows rise that time, and Anne immediately covered her eyes in exasperation. “Oh goddamn it.”

Kirk stood away from the table, walking over to the food synthesizer and starting to punch in codes. “Look, you wouldn’t have forgiven me if I’d let that one go and then you’d realized it later,” he said.

“I think you wouldn’t have forgiven you,” Anne said darkly.

“Same thing, right?” he asked, moving on before she could form an answer. “Anyway, I’ll leave after dinner. If you’re forgetting what your words mean, you must feel like you’re on death’s doorstep.”

“I might feel better after dinner, though,” Anne protested. “Punch in some coffee, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you kidding? The only thing worse than being that tired would be if you were that tired and unable to sleep.” Finishing the order he’d punched in, he turned to watch her while he waited for the food to materialise. “Trust me, I’ve been there. It’s not pretty.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there too. It’s terrible,” Anne said. “Well, that’s no fun. I was looking forward to this all day.”

“Why?” Kirk asked. “Did you have something special in mind?” Maybe he’d made a mistake choosing the meal. Had she had something planned? 

Anne sighed, sounding exasperated again. “Oh my god, you just want me to list all your good qualities, don’t you?”

It took him a second to match that with his question rather than the thoughts of food, but when he did, he laughed. “That’s a pretty good conclusion to jump to. Go ahead and start listing.” The plates materialized and he brought them over to the table.

“Macaroni and cheese?” Anne asked.

“I do punch in some pretty mean codes on that synthesizer. Flexible fingers. Good technique.” He tried not to laugh as he turned away to get their drinks. “Okay, next on the list?”

He turned just in time to see Anne mentally reviewing what he’d just said before suddenly frowning. “You asshole,” she said. Kirk burst out laughing, setting a beer in front of her and sitting down. After a moment, she started laughing too, her voice rueful. “Okay, fine. That was pretty funny, even if you are making fun of me.”

“I happen to think being an asshole is also one of my good qualities, but reports vary on that. Maybe you can clear it up for me.” He grinned, stabbing his fork into the macaroni.

“Definitely a good quality, when I’m awake enough to deal with it,” Anne said, taking a sip of the beer. There was a short pause that pinged his internal alarms before she spoke again. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked a guy who wasn’t at least a little bit of an asshole.”

“Oh yeah?” Kirk asked nonchalantly, pretending to apply himself to his food. Ex talk was never a good thing. It invariably seemed to come from someone trying to manipulate him or someone who thought things were more serious than they were. Neither of those seemed to fit, for one reason or another, so he wasn’t really sure what to make of this.

“They were good people, though. Well, so far as I know, anyway.” Anne paused, turning her plate this way and that, and Kirk waited for the other shoe to drop. She looked up at him, her eyes big and solemn. “Can I ask you something really serious?”

Oh god, that made the ex thing so much more dire. But how was he supposed to say no to her? If he addressed it directly, he’d be bringing the conversation back towards their… whatever they had going, and that would make things a thousand times more loaded. “Uh, sure,” he said, setting down his fork and trying to look appropriately concerned instead of self-servingly worried.

Anne looked away, seemed to try to speak a couple times, then skewed her gaze back down toward her plate, and said, “There’s no salad with this.”

An evasion on top of all this? Kirk looked down at his plate before answering. By this point, he was fairly certain she was about to propose or… or something. He wasn’t sure what else deserved this conglomeration of warning signs, and he couldn’t ask, or he’d risk pulling them further out of the realm of friendship. “It’s comfort food. It’s not supposed to be healthy. It’s supposed to make you feel good, then put you in a carb coma.” After waiting a moment, he asked, “What was your question, Anne?”

The silence afterward seemed ominous. 

“Um,” she said, sounding a bit timid. Kirk forced his gaze back up to her face; she still wasn’t looking at him. She toyed with her macaroni, looking uncomfortable, her words coming unevenly and uncertainly. “What would you say if I… if I brought up the possibility-- just a possibility-- that I might… that I might be an asshole too?” she asked, then shot him a wickedly amused glance.

It took a moment for that one to penetrate; he’d been so prepared to hear something terrible that at first it made no sense at all. When he realized how badly he’d been set up and how ruthlessly she’d used the unsettled nature of their relationship against him, he slowly said, “Oh my god, you awful fucking person,” and then began to laugh softly in disbelief. Anne’s laugh rang out over his, and soon they were both laughing like lunatics, tears streaming from Anne’s eyes as she dodged the bottlecap he threw in her direction. It took a while for them to stop setting each other off, and by the time they did, Kirk’s stomach muscles hurt. Still snickering, he said, “You got me dead to rights,” and then immediately appreciated that he wouldn’t have to explain the idiom.

“You tried so hard,” Anne said, wiping her eyes. “I almost felt sorry for you.”

“Well, from one asshole to another, I’m glad you didn’t. It wouldn’t have been as funny if you’d stopped earlier.” Kirk laughed again. “I think you just confirmed that you're the most attractive woman in at least a ten thousand kilometer radius.”

Anne’s cheeks pinked, and he couldn’t help the sense of smug satisfaction that curled up warmly in his chest. He’d made her blush. He could tell, even with her face flushed with laughter. “I’m not even going to try to answer that. I have no brain for flirting right now,” she said.

“That’s fine, I don’t think anything could top that.” Even Carol had never gotten him quite that badly, but that hadn't been her style anyway.

“All right but there’s still no salad here,” Anne said, still giggling from time to time.

“Nope. You eat it and you enjoy it. No substitutions allowed.” Kirk took a bite and then added, “For maximum authenticity the macaroni should be mushier, but you’ll have to make do.”

“Authenticity to what?” Anne asked.

“Every second rate food synthesizer in every dive bar in Iowa,” Kirk said. “And it should taste like someone maybe threw a dirty sock in it somewhere, but that’s optional.”

“That sounds… really awful,” Anne said, trying not to start laughing again.

Kirk grinned at her. “Yeah, but you’re happy with what you’ve got now, aren’t you?”

It was Anne’s turn to throw her bottlecap, and it narrowly missed his head. “You are incredibly aggravating.”

“So is that number three on the list? We were on three, right?” When Anne looked blankly at him, he said, “One, macaroni and cheese. Two, asshole. And three, incredibly aggravating.”

“Oh, _that_ list,” Anne said. “Yes, that’s definitely on the list. But I’m not telling you the rest of them. You lost your list privileges when you threw the bottlecap at me.”

“Oh, come on,” he pretended to plead, and Anne shook her head. “Come on, _please_?” She started laughing, but she shook her head again. “Aw, c’mon! I’ll let you touch my biceps.” Kirk gave her his biggest, most obnoxiously self-confident grin.

Anne’s elbow came down on the table with a thump, and then her forehead smacked into her palm. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. Kirk figured he’d better let her calm down enough to eat some more after this. It was just too much fun setting her off when she was too tired to resist.


	18. Chapter 18

The next day on the bridge, he found himself grinning at odd moments, remembering the night before. Poor Anne had been so worn out from all the laughing and whatever else that she’d fallen asleep during one of the quieter moments, almost between one sentence and the next. Kirk had very, very quietly cleaned up the dishes from dinner, and then lifted her out of her chair and into bed. He’d had to consider a moment before he did it, wondering if it would be an intrusion, but the thought of just leaving her slumped in an awkward position in the chair didn’t sit right with him. She’d be more comfortable in the bed. **  
**

She hadn’t woken when he’d lifted her, just curled up against him and sighed softly. That scent of flowers he didn’t recognize. She felt like nothing in his arms, light and insubstantial, and he felt almost like waking her would make her evaporate away. It was a stupid thing to think, he didn’t actually believe that. Nevertheless he was very careful not to wake her, going still when he saw her silver eyelashes flutter. She didn’t open her eyes. He’d carefully set her on the bed, pulling the covers over her and checking that the computer was set to wake her in time for work, then dimmed the lights and left. That perfume she wore had lingered a little on his shirt.

He realized he was grinning again and casually let it fade, picking up his padd and looking down at it. It was almost end of shift; hopefully everyone was too busy watching the clock to bother watching him. The first couple of days out no one expected to find anything much; they weren’t even in the ceded space just yet. As he checked the padd, he noticed a new message. Anne wouldn’t have messaged him unless she was canceling dinner or some other time-dependent issue, so he checked it immediately.

It turned out to be from Dr. Hayes, asking if he could come by after his shift regarding the profile she’d sent. Frowning, Kirk tapped out an acceptance. Granted, the profile didn’t get into all the nooks and crannies of Anne’s psyche, but it got the broad strokes right, and had agreed with his recommendation that nothing be done at this time, or at all. The only reason Dr. Hayes could really have to address the matter was if she’d made some mistake.

Perplexed, Kirk began to run his end of shift checks, and once they were done he handed the conn over to Spock. A few moments later, he was down at one of the offices in the med bay, the one that had been Christine Chapel’s before she’d transferred from the Enterprise. Kirk sighed, not sure if he was disgruntled over losing one of the best nurses in Starfleet, or if he was annoyed at losing her for such a stupid reason. He could understand someone being hurt that he’d forgotten he’d slept with them-- that was definitely on him-- but not to the point that she’d transfer from the flagship all the way to the outermost limits of the opposite frontier. 

Tapping the pad outside the door, Kirk waited for the office doors to slide open, and then stepped inside. “You wanted to see me, Doctor?” She had her back to him, and as she turned, he found himself surprised by how beautiful she was. Had he even been paying attention when he’d met her? He couldn’t remember her being that pretty. Well, he’d been preoccupied with the tests he’d been running.

All too late he realized that her eyes were narrow with anger. “James Kirk, I don’t know what you think you’re playing at here, but you have a lot to answer for.” That faint southern accent of hers had disappeared completely, her words sharp as knives.

“Whoa, wait a moment--” Was it this office? Could it be making people become irrational? Weirder things had happened.

“Bad enough that you’re trying to seduce that poor girl-- and yes, I know about your love ‘em and leave ‘em habits, everyone at the Academy knew--”

“Whoa, hold on--”

“--you slept around, but _lying_ to one of my patients about the severity of her problems--”

_“What?”_

“--and taking it upon yourself to perform some sort of weird mockery of therapy? And letting her think--”

Catching up with the situation, Kirk decided to let her accusations continue until she was finished. She just kept getting angrier whenever he said anything. It was pretty clear she was talking about Anne, and Kirk wanted to know whether he’d broken something, or if not, what had happened to make Dr. Hayes think he had.

“--you were her _friend_ while you did all of that is the most despicable thing I’ve ever seen a Starfleet officer do and I am going to make sure Command hears about every single last bit of it. I can _not_ believe the sheer amount of gall it would take to do _any_ of that to someone suffering from PTSD, and not even to have the decency to put her off onto another ship or let her stay at Yorktown just because you wanted to try to get your rocks off with a girl that’s been repeatedly raped for a whole goddamn year-- you better watch yourself, _Captain_ , because a court-martial is going to be the least of your problems!”

Kirk was speechless for a moment just out of sheer awe at her vitriol. Of course, he would have felt much the same about any officer he’d ever dealt with if he’d found out even half the accusations she was making were true.

“Have you got anything to say for yourself before I report you?” Dr. Hayes snarled.

Kirk didn’t think a joke would go over well, so he decided to stick to de-escalation tactics. “I’m really impressed by your ability to stand up for your patients, Doctor. I’ve gathered that you’re talking about Ms. Hardesty, and while I can speak to some of the things you’ve said, there are some I can’t explain to myself, let alone you.”

“I'll give you five minutes, and this better be good,” Dr. Hayes said, her voice a vengeful promise.

Kirk wasn’t entirely sure he’d get out of here all in one piece, so he decided he might as well lead with the most incriminating truth and work back from there. “I’m not trying to seduce Anne, and even if I was, there is no way in hell I would keep someone-- anyone-- on my ship for that. There’s attraction there, we’ve talked about it. She kissed me, once, and then we agreed the timing was wrong for that so we backed off. That’s as far as things have gone. And I’d have to be a piss-poor excuse for a captain if any of that had anything to do with why she’s still aboard the ship, but we’ll get to that. I’m going to move on to the next thing I remember, okay? Stop me if I’m not explaining in enough depth.”

“Explain the circumstances of this kiss,” Dr. Hayes said, her voice no less severe, but there was already a glint of something else in her eyes. She was searching for something, and he had enough respect for Bones’s opinion that he figured that probably meant there was something to search for, even if it might not be what she thought.

That didn’t mean he had to get detailed. “It was after the trial. She was upset and I’d decided to stick with her because she pretty visibly feels safer when I’m around. We went to my quarters so that I could get out of the dress uniform, and when I came back out of the bedroom and asked if she was all right, she burst into tears. So I just tried to be there for her and somehow that ended up in the kiss. Maybe I didn’t throw on the brakes as fast as I should have, but I did, eventually, and that’s when we decided to break into the good scotch and just relax. I joked about drinking until we passed out, but I figured if anyone deserved it, it was her. It ended up happening. I didn’t think it was a big deal aside from the hangover.” He paused. “Is that good enough?”

Dr. Hayes was scowling, though Kirk knew enough to see that she was chasing support for some theory. “Has she mentioned this incident to you since then?” 

“Yeah, we’ve joked about it.” And had some seriously near misses, but he didn’t need to be _that_ specific.

“Has she mentioned it to you without you bringing it up first?” 

These questions were getting weirder and weirder. “I really couldn’t tell you without going back over all our conversations one by one. Maybe? She’s ambivalent about things like that, physical contact and such.” Although just recently she’d been a lot easier with him, if not with others. He was pretty sure the kiss had something to do with that.

“Ambivalent.” The disgust was back in Dr. Hayes’ voice again. Kirk supposed he couldn’t blame her if she thought he was trying to seduce Anne out of challenge or… whatever could possibly motivate something like that. What could even be someone’s motivation for that? “Got anything else,or am I contacting Command?”

“Uh, gimme a moment.” Kirk had to think back to what he could remember of the list of allegations she’d thrown at him. “The therapy thing-- that wasn’t therapy, that was making sure she didn’t have a mental breakdown on the witness stand. I know a bit about psychology because it’s important to know how to handle the crew, but I am nowhere near equipped for a job like that. And for myself, I don’t really want to be. I’d have been happier never knowing what any of that felt like. But it wasn’t about me. It was about making sure the case against Tarenn wouldn’t kill her, and letting her vent some pressure.” Kirk couldn't help a crooked smile, even under the circumstances. Anne was so different, so much more assertive now. “I’m surprised it’s succeeded as well as it has. She seems pretty functional, although she’s got a ways to go before she’s healthy.”

_“Pretty functional?”_ Dr. Hayes said, half in horror and half in anger. “That girl can barely string two sentences together without dissociating, and you think that’s _functioning?_ ”

That surprised Kirk right out of the diplomatic tone he’d been trying to maintain. “Hang on, I’m not sure what criteria you’re working from, but I haven’t seen this and I’ve had no complaints from Scotty. She keeps to herself, but that’s no weirder than some on the ship. Are you--” Kirk saw the thought dawn on her at the same time. “Are you sure we’re not seeing different things, different… I don’t know. Is that a possibility somehow?” he asked. If Anne was different around Hayes, what would that even mean?

For the first time, Dr. Hayes’ eyes looked more thoughtful than angry. “A drastic change in behaviors would explain things, although it's extremely unusual in a psychological sense. The person I saw would not be capable of working for any prolonged period without someone noticing gaps in her ability to connect to reality. Any remembrance seems to set it off.”

Kirk pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. “Scotty,” he said into it.

“Yes Captain,” Scotty answered. “Although I’m warnin’ ye I’ve left Engineering for the day--”

“No, no. Just wanted to check on Ms. Hardesty’s performance on behalf of Dr. Hayes. Are you keeping her useful or having to give her days off or what?”

“She’s a quiet wee lassie. Hardly know she’s here most o’ the time, except by her work pilin’ up done. Here on time every day, leaves on time every day. Quick learner. No’ over-friendly wi’ the crew, but always polite and has a smile for me every once in a while.”

Kirk saw Dr. Hayes’ eyes widen, and she grabbed the padd from her desk, quickly tapping on it. “Thanks, Scotty. Kirk out.” He’d just flipped it closed when Dr. Hayes shoved the padd in front of his face. Kirk read aloud, “When asked directly about the murder, AH’s voice became detached and eyes glassy. When finished speaking, AH was unresponsive to external stimuli, including pain, for a period of eleven minutes or so, during which she showed signs of mental distress with no accompanying action, e.g. tears with no change in breathing/accompanying vocalization. Pupil dilation and tracking action were evident without any external focus. Eventually came out of it on her own. Did not appear to notice that she had lost time.”

“And this isn’t what you saw in your conversations with her?” Dr. Hayes demanded. “Because that’s not the only time it happened when she was here. It was just the most severe.”

“No, god no. She’s hurt, yeah, and she’s scared, but I never once saw that happen and if Scotty hasn’t seen it either, that’s both people who have anything much to do with her right there.”

She took the padd back from him and began to tap out notes. “And this didn’t happen during the trial either.”

“No. It was only at the end when Tarenn started pressing her that she started to lose it a bit. But I--” Kirk stopped, then continued more slowly. “I went up and stood on the stand with her, and she was fine. Upset, but all there. She held on until after, and even then...” He paused briefly, and then added, “And it’s probably relevant that I’m the one who opened her cell and got her out of there and onto the ship.”

Dr. Hayes abruptly leaned a hip against her desk, rubbing her forehead as if she had a headache starting. “All right, I have some ideas about what’s going on here.” She smirked, looking him over in a way that seemed odd for reasons he couldn’t define. “Smart girl, that one. If I’m right, she’s got some incredible self-preservation instincts, and she’s stubborn as shit.”

“She’s a survivor. I knew that pretty much the moment I saw her.” Frowning, Kirk said, “Hiding this is out of the question. I’m not going to make a big emergency of it, but I am going to tell her. She needs to be able to trust someone.”

“I’m not going to get into the details with you. That’s between me and her, and if she chooses to tell you about any of this once she and I have discussed it, that’s her choice to make, not mine.” Dr. Hayes’ smirk turned bitter. “I will say this, though-- your personal feelings are only going to make things harder. Trust me, I’ve been there. It would be better for her if you stepped back. Better for you, too. Regardless of what you see, she is not well enough for an emotional involvement, especially not one with a superior officer.”

“I’ll take that into consideration, Doctor.” It was just that it might already be too late, although he wasn’t about to say that and reopen the discussion. As relieved as he was to have everything settled for the moment, Kirk couldn’t help one last dig. “And that report to Starfleet Command, Dr. Hayes?”

Her shoulders tensed, her expression carefully blank. “I didn’t log anything except in my personal file. If I’m out at the end of the trial period, at least let me know now so I don’t get too settled in.”

Kirk grinned wryly. Did he really need someone who’d go off half-cocked like that? Then again, he’d known officers who would have kept their heads down and mouths shut to protect their own careers. “I’m willing to forget the personal remarks, and the rest is just… sticking up for your patients, even if it costs you. I can respect that.” He snorted. “Why do you think I keep Bones around anyway?”

She relaxed as she realized he meant it, flashing him a dazzling grin, her eyes relieved. When she spoke again, he could hear her voice broadening into that faint hint of the South. “Good point. Send him in here if you see him, will you? I need a prescription for a stiff drink.”

Kirk took the hint and backed off, shaking his head. “You’re fitting in pretty well so far, Doctor,” he said, and left the room.

* * *

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/167538783276/deleted-scene-6)


	19. Chapter 19

Not sure what he would find when he slapped the palm scanner outside Anne’s door that evening, Kirk couldn’t help but be surprised when the door automatically slid open instead of waiting for her answer, and surprised again at the volume of the music that was playing. Well, maybe that shouldn’t have been surprising, since they’d already established that they both liked loud, fast music, but Kirk didn’t recognize this although he liked the sound of it. Ducking inside before the music attracted too many stares, Kirk glanced around for Anne and found her curled up on the bed, concentrating intensely on the padd in her hands. He stood still, wondering if he should give her some time, when she glanced up. Immediately a smile brightened her eyes, and she said something he didn’t hear. The music dropped to a more reasonable listening level, one that he wouldn’t have to shout over. “I get it, you’re trying not to fall asleep on me again,” Kirk teased, dragging up a chair. **  
**

“No, I just found some of my old music hidden in one of the sculptures. I hadn’t heard this song for ages.” She blanked the padd and dropped it on the bed beside her. “I first found it when I searched for my middle name.”

“You got stuck with a name from the Victorian era, did you know that, Anne Madeline Hardesty?” Kirk grinned at her, wondering if she’d been trying to write, if he’d interrupted her.

“It could have been worse. I was almost named Antonia. Anyway, you have nothing to say about names, James Tiberius Kirk,” Anne said, planting a foot on his thigh and shoving him gently.

Without thinking, he grabbed her ankle, freezing when he saw her eyes fly wide in fear. “It’s okay. I’m not hurting you.”

The fear fled as quickly as it had arrived, leaving her shaken and pale. “I know. I was just startled. It’s not somewhere that gets touched very often.” She made no effort to pull her foot away, just consciously relaxed. Kirk decided that if she was making an effort to be fine with it, he would let it stay as it was for a while. “Thanks for getting me to bed last night. I can’t think why I was so tired.”

Once again, he was struck by that peculiar quality of her gaze, an involuntary shiver racing up his spine as if he’d suddenly been dipped in mist. “I may have some thoughts on that,” Kirk said, regretting that he had to chase the gratitude from her eyes. At her raised eyebrows, he said, “Your psychiatrist nearly chewed my face off today. Said you’d dissociated in front of her and how could I this and that, PTSD, basically I’m a monster, or I was until she found out you hadn’t ever done it in front of me or anyone else we know of here on the Enterprise. That… probably has something to do with why you were so tired.”

“I don’t remember this,” Anne said, her eyes turning troubled.

Kirk stroked her ankle with his thumb, hoping it was comforting. It seemed to be, or at least she didn’t react badly. “She timed it once. Eleven minutes, she said, and you picked up as if no time at all had passed, except you were crying.”

He saw her think back, and then as clearly as if he’d seen the safety doors snap shut in front of a blown out bulkhead, he saw her slam it out of her mind. “I’ll talk to her about it when I see her. I don’t need to be dealing with it all the time.”

“Anne,” Kirk said softly, “Even I know that you can only pick your times for so long. Eventually you’re not going to be able to choose when you deal with it and when you don’t. I just want you to know if I can help, I will.” If he could. If he wasn’t doing any damage.

Anne nodded. “It would be nice just to forget it and be normal,” she said, and her voice was more bitter and resentful than he’d ever heard it, her eyes glaring away from him and her mouth twisting. “I try not to be angry-- I hate being angry-- but I can’t stop it.”

“You need to be angry, we can go hit the gym and I’ll teach you how to barfight. You just gotta promise to stop hitting me when I yell Uncle.” Kirk risked a small grin. “I’m delicate.”

“Adding that to the list,” Anne said, her resentment evaporating and a ghost of a smile showing on her lips. “I don’t understand how I lucked into knowing you, Jim, but you had better believe I will never, ever forget just how lucky I am.” Her eyes once again caught him, luminous, mist over calm waters catching the sunlight. Dr. Hayes’ warning to leave her alone suddenly seemed insubstantial, baseless.

For what might have been the first time since grade school, Kirk felt like he might actually be in danger of blushing himself. Looking away from those perilous eyes before he felt himself willingly drown, he said, “Well, there’s plenty of time to change your opinion to screaming and throwing things at me on my way out. I’m more used to it anyway.”

Instead of laughing or asking why, Anne seemed to get it immediately. “They get too attached, huh?” Anne said sympathetically. “I know what you mean. I could have been married five or six times by now if I wanted.” At his evident surprise, she asked, “What? It takes one to know one. You didn’t think I pulled that schtick last night out of nowhere, did you?”

“No, I figured you knew me, I just didn’t figure you’d known it from the inside looking out.” Ladykiller and maneater. It had a nice symmetry. It did make him think of the bare foot resting warm on his thigh just a little too much though. She’d never mentioned any affairs at all, right up until she’d used the mention of it to put him off guard. He habitually kept quiet too-- no one wanted to feel like they were the latest in a string of conquests. “I feel like I should have guessed. Well, how do you want to celebrate surprising me?”

“...another bender?” Anne asked, her eyes twinkling.

“You cleaned me out last time,” he joked. He’d made sure he had more than enough to last for a while… but that wouldn’t have been funny. “I’ll have to go through Chekov’s locker to see if there’s anything worth drinking, and then Scotty’s to see if there’s anything really horrible.” Kirk paused, then added, “And I think the hazardous material first aid stations still use ethanol in some of the compounds, but I’d have to taste ‘em again to be sure.”

“What about the med bay?” Anne asked. “I’ll stand watch if you break open the controlled substances cabinet. That’s where they keep all the good stuff anyway.”

“I was saving that for next week.” Kirk sighed, then ran his thumb over her ankle again. Her toes squeezed against his thigh. “This sounds like too much legwork. Let’s just go out to the lounge for dinner.”

“Dinner out? Sounds good to me. Should I change?” Anne was wearing a high-necked little grey shift, her hair pinned up in its customary twist. He’d never seen her with her hair down-- it was always in that roll, smooth and sleek.

“Go right ahead, I’ll wait,” Kirk said, slouching into his chair and giving her his biggest shiteating grin, knowing she wouldn’t take it seriously.

Rolling her eyes, Anne shoved his thigh with her foot again. “One of these days your face is going to freeze that way.”

“And you, you lucky girl, will get to see it all the time,” he said. “Anyway, no, you look fine.” Setting her foot on the bed, he stood up and offered her a hand. Anne took it and let him bring her up, not hanging like a sack of rocks or jumping up on her own and over-balancing them, but using his support the way it was meant to be used, as if it was long-practiced. “Don’t tell me you dance,” he said suspiciously.

“Me? Why on earth would I do that?” she asked airily, heading for the door. “It’s not as if dancing is one of those coded mating rituals that I could take advantage of for some inexplicable purpose of my own. So no, of course not. Music off.”

The music snapped off and Anne slipped on a pair of shoes, keeping her balance with what felt like a purely superfluous hand planted on his arm. For a moment, Kirk wished he hadn’t suggested dinner out, and then reflected that it was probably better not to be alone _all_ the time. Three more days before that self-imposed limit would evaporate.

And what then?

Kirk wasn't sure. She wasn't like anyone else-- she wasn't even like herself, really. If anything ever happened, he would have to be very careful.The last thing he wanted was for her to be scared of him or damaged by him. A moment of gratification was definitely not worth the price in fear.

The door slid open, and he shook himself back to the present. The halls were still busy; he and Anne usually had dinner rather late, but not late enough that everyone had gone to one of the ship’s bars or back to quarters for the evening. Anne’s bearing changed, became a little more cautious, but nowhere near as bad as that first time they’d eaten in the lounge. It was sort of hard to believe that Dr. Hayes had observed serious problems with Anne’s ability to keep connected to the world around her, but the doctor had no reason to make it up.

As they entered the lounge, Kirk trailing slightly behind her, he heard Chekov’s voice. Anne paused just inside the door. “Ah, excuse me miss, ve need another player for kadis-kot. My team is short a member, and I vould love it if you could fill it out.” The liar. Kadis-kot wasn’t a team game.

Anne shied away such that Kirk lost sight of her beyond the doors, sounding a little strained. “I don’t think so, sir. Best of luck.”

“Are you sure? You don’t hev to know how to play, I can teach you zat.” Chekov stepped toward Anne, neatly cutting Kirk off from getting at her.

“Mr. Chekov, you’re blocking the door,” Kirk said, intensely amused. The little Lothario was actually trying for her. Well, it didn’t take him long to notice a new face on the ship, and Anne did seem like his type, insofar as he had one beyond ‘vaguely female-looking.’

“Sorry, sir,” Chekov said, moving aside-- closer to Anne, of course, who looked a bit worried at his proximity. He didn’t seem to be aware that Anne had come in with Kirk.

Kirk took a couple of steps into the room, then looked back, holding a hand out to Anne. “Aren’t you coming, Anne?”

Smiling apologetically at Chekov-- and looking far more secure-- Anne sidestepped him and caught Kirk’s hand, letting him pull her to his side and tuck her hand in the crook of his arm. “Maybe some other time, sir,” Anne said politely, while Chekov’s eyes widened in mortification.

They didn’t find a table as well-situated this time, as it was somewhat busier, but Kirk did manage to snag a table near the wall, letting Anne take the most protected seat. “He reminds me of me when I was that age,” Kirk said, shaking his head and seating himself across from her. “He’s got that innocent look, though, and he uses it. I never had that.”

Anne looked him over, then shook her head. “No. You were the bad boy.”

“What about you? Adventurous type?” Kirk guessed.

“Nailed it. With a good helping of elusiveness. It worked pretty well.” Anne’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, and Kirk turned to see a server approaching them with a pair of glasses.

“What’s this?” he asked, as the server placed them on the table.

“Compliments of Mr. Chekov, sir. He asked you both to please accept his apologies.” The server smiled and asked, “Did you want some more time to think about what you want?”

“Let’s do Italian food. We haven’t done that yet,” Anne said.

“You’re the expert. Go ahead and order,” Kirk said. As Anne spoke to the server, Kirk glanced around for Chekov and, catching his eye, lifted his glass in a little toast. The worried look left Chekov’s face, and he toasted back. The aroma of a very fine scotch reached his nose just before he brought the glass to his lips, sweetness over a smoky burn, with hints of salty ocean air and something almost like caramel. Kirk couldn’t help a sigh of pleasure. “Pavel may be a bit too enthusiastic, but he’s got good taste in Scotch. I wonder where he’s been hiding this?”

“Planning on finding it?” Anne teased before she tasted hers, and her eyebrows rose as it hit her lips. “Son of a bitch,” she breathed, staring at the glass. “Maybe we should just threaten it out of him.”

“Seems quickest,” Kirk agreed, enjoying the way she played along with his jokes-- the way she never needed an explanation that they were jokes in the first place. “What’s for dinner?”

“Gagh,” Anne said, still staring into her drink as if she were remembering something.

“Oh. I didn’t know you liked Klingon food.” Kirk frowned. “I didn’t know we could synthesize that.” 

“We can’t,” Anne said, looking back at him. “And it tastes awful anyway. I went with the closest palatable thing I could think of.”

“It’s not that bad,” scoffed Kirk. “It’s a little slimy. Odd texture. All right, the squirming is kinda weird…”

“Oof. I killed mine before I ate it. If you pinch them hard right behind the mouth end, they die pretty quick. The Klingon trader I was with got all offended about it. I had to tell him I liked watching things die before he relaxed.” Anne looked amused. “He liked that-- decided a little offense was no reason to pass up a taste of strange.”

It took a couple of moments for Kirk to formulate a reply. “...well. Well, well,” he said, trying to wipe the surprise from his face. “Not that I’ve never been curious, but it’s just never come up. Yet.” Knowing his life, it would come up sooner or later, military tensions and isolationist practices notwithstanding. “Well, did you? I would. I mean, as long as I had a phaser handy. I hear they get rough.”

“They do,” Anne said, her eyes twinkling. “You didn’t think I could pass up the experience, did you? But I had bruises for weeks. He was a gentleman, though, considering cultural differences. He even let me tie him down.”

Kirk sat back in his chair, considering the implications of that. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he caught Anne’s eyes flicking over his shoulder again, and put his remark on hold.

The server set down a plate of artfully arranged grilled octopus served on a bed of rice and tomatoes, and bowls of steaming, fragrant seafood soup. “Just let me know if I can get you anything else, sir, ma’am,” the server said, smiling at them as she took her leave. “Enjoy your meal.”

Gagh indeed. Kirk snagged a tentacle and pointed his fork at Anne. “I want you to know that I respect you more and more every day,” he said, very seriously. “Now, I am telling you, you _need_ to tell me what that was like. I _need_ to know this.”

Anne tried to suppress a smile, exasperation and amusement warring on her face. “James Tiberius Kirk, I am not giving you a play-by-play--”

“Oh, come _on_ , it’s not like he’s going to find out--”

“I don’t ask you for details!” She was irritated, yes, but she was still laughing, and if she was laughing, he could wear her down.

“I wouldn’t give them to you anyway, but this is different. This isn’t like a Caitian or something, this is a _Klingon_ we’re talking about. I don’t know how you even _met_ one, let alone the mechanics of--”

A polite cough sounded next to him, and Kirk glanced up to see Uhura standing next to the table pretending she had no idea what was going on, though Kirk knew very well she’d probably heard most of what they’d said. Her hearing was amazingly sensitive. “You wanted to speak to me, sir?” Her lips twitched, and she did not look at Anne.

“This isn’t over,” Kirk said, pointing his fork at Anne again. “Uhura, I won’t take up much of your time. I know Spock is probably waiting for you.” She could have picked a better moment, though. If he was tied down, how did he do so much damage? And to _what?_ “Uh, anyway, this is a personal matter but it affects the ship’s chances of finding the smugglers. I’m not asking you to tell me whether you have or have not, but if you have I'd like you to set aside some time to talk Anne through a mind meld and what all is entailed with that. I know we’d all appreciate it.”

Without giving anything away, Uhura said, “Spock would be the best person to talk to, for obvious reasons.”

“Spock also has the emotional sensitivity of-- of gagh, and you know it.” He knew he should be concentrating on the mind meld thing, but… she was so tiny and Klingons were so huge, where did anything even fit?

...were there ridges?

“You have a point, Captain.” Uhura looked at Anne for the first time. “If I can help you, I’ll contact you to set up a time to speak.”

Anne nodded, her pleasure somewhat dimmed. “I appreciate whatever effort you can make.” Glancing at Kirk out of the corner of her eye, she added, “Would you like to join us for dinner? I’m sure the Captain wouldn’t--”

“You know, I think Uhura has Spock waiting for her right now and--”

Uhura pressed her lips together to try to stop them from twitching, and reached out to pat Anne’s shoulder. Kirk saw Anne subtly brace for it. “I wish I could help you with this one. Good luck.” Stifling a chuckle, she turned on her heel and walked off to her own table, where Spock was waiting for her, as expected.

“Okay,” Kirk said, rounding on Anne. “I would tell you if _I’d_ slept with a Klingon.”

“Yeah. You’d tell me _if_ you had, not give actual details.” Anne shook her head. “Not good enough.”

Taking a deep breath, Kirk settled in for the long haul. “How many times? Was it just the once?” Anne stayed silent, seemingly enjoying the taste of the soup in spite of her exasperated humor. “Oh my god, you went back for more, didn’t you? You little minx, you did!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can tell me which song is mentioned at the beginning of the chapter, I'll send you the next chapter or one of your choice for free. Should be easy; not much music uses that spelling of "Madeline" in it :)


	20. Chapter 20

The next morning’s session with Dr. Hayes had cleared up some more details of the memory loss, and they’d discussed more thoroughly what it might mean for Anne to go through with a mind meld if she was dissociating when she remembered the details of her captivity. “We simply don’t know what effect it’ll have,” Dr. Hayes had said. “It could hit you with everything at once, or it might do nothing at all. But I’m ordering you to report to the med bay with Mr. Spock before trying this, so we can provide whatever care you might need afterward.” **  
**

Anne had bristled at the order, but agreed to it. She hadn’t yet asked Kirk if he would stay with her during it, at the very least, but he would, she knew it. She had to pull her weight, though, so she had replied in the affirmative to Uhura’s message offering a meeting time. As the clock ticked down the seconds, Anne grew more and more agitated, pacing her quarters. It wasn’t Uhura she was afraid of, but the ever-closer inevitability of the mind meld, the shortening length of time that her mind would be unspoiled and her private thoughts remain private. There were so many things she needed to keep to herself. Still, she felt restless, as if she should just forget about the talk and start scheduling things. Normally she would have put that down to her impatience, but the feeling was so strong that she was a little nauseated.

Nevertheless, when the door chirped, she had to force herself to say, “Come in,” and was a little proud when her voice didn’t falter.

Lieutenant Uhura smiled as she walked in. “I’ve been curious to meet you socially for a while. This isn’t the best of circumstances, but I suppose it’ll have to do.” She held out her hand. “Nyota Uhura.”

Without Kirk around, Anne felt quite a bit less at ease, but that wasn’t Uhura’s fault. She grasped Uhura’s hand and shook it firmly. “Anne Madeline Hardesty,” she said unnecessarily, then let go, gesturing to the table. “Won’t you sit down? Would you like something to drink?”

“Just some water would be lovely,” Uhura said, having a seat at the table. As Anne brought over a pitcher of water and two glasses, Uhura added lightly, “I’m not the only one curious about you. The Captain’s been pretty close-mouthed about what he’s been getting up to, but word does get around.”

Anne frowned, seating herself. “I hope I haven’t taken him away from anything--”

Uhura smiled. “No, it’s not like that. And it’s not the whole crew, just those of us who know him best. Spock never says anything, but I know him too well for that. Me. Sulu, ever since that dinner at his place. McCoy, although he grumbles whenever he hears your name. He’s just worried. Chekov figured it out last night when he saw the two of you. Scotty. He pretends he doesn’t care.” Uhura shrugged her slim shoulders. “It’s normal to be curious when one of your friends is suddenly involved with someone you don’t know.”

Anne felt herself blushing. She was used to being on the other end of this sort of conversation… and she wasn't used to being so vulnerable. “We’re not really involved, exactly. If all this hadn’t happened, then maybe, but now? I don’t know. I barely even know who I am anymore.”

“Well, you seemed to know pretty well last night. And if you think Jim Kirk sets aside dinner every day for random crew members, or gets a big stupid grin at nothing in the middle of sensor array tests just because he likes them, you should probably readjust your idea of him.” Shaking her head, a little grin still playing on her lips, Uhura added, “But fair’s fair. I’ve pried into your personal life, so you can pry into mine a bit. Spock and I have mind melded, yes. It’s a pretty intense experience.”

Taking a deep breath, Anne tried to focus on the task at hand. She wished Uhura had been all right with Kirk being there. They’d never asked her, just out of courtesy, but Anne would have felt better with him around. “I would have jumped at the chance to try it before all this. Now… it feels like an invasion of the only place I had left that was mine.”

“You don’t have to do it, you know. No one will be upset if you can’t go through with it.” Uhura’s dark eyes probed Anne’s.

“The more I think about it, the more certain I am that it needs to be done, and soon. I know that I know something important, and before I thought I couldn’t remember because it was too painful, but now... “ Anne bit her lip, searching Uhura’s face, and then sighed. It was better to tell the truth now. “Spock will have to know anyway. Apparently I dissociate when I try to remember, and that’s why my memory of that time period is so bad. It’s never happened while the Captain was around, but Dr. Hayes managed to replicate it. At least now I know when it’s happened, even if I can’t stop it.”

“Then it’s all the more important that you know what it’s like, so you can prepare yourself. It’s not like talking to someone. It’s a _meld_. It can be used to convey information, but the kind of thing you’ll be doing is going to be more… soul-searching.” Uhura sipped her water. “Do you mind if I tell Spock what we say? He needs to know what he’s in for too, or it can be dangerous.”

“Go ahead. I was going to ask Dr. Hayes to brief him as well. She’s requested to be present, and that it be done in the med bay.” Anne chewed on her lip. “How long does it take?”

“Not long to make the connection. Apparently every Vulcan does it differently, but with Spock it goes pretty quickly from touching your face to mind contact. Once it has, it depends on what he’s looking for and how easy it is to find. I can’t say how difficult it will be for him if you’ve repressed these memories so hard, but usually it goes by pretty fast. You’ll be aware of him, and you’ll know what he’s paying attention to at the time, but to me he really felt more like a part of myself at first.” Uhura smiled, as if in fond remembrance. “The more I resisted or tried to direct him, the more he seemed like a different person.”

“What if I need him to look at something in specific?” Anne asked.

“Just think of it. He catches on pretty quick.” Uhura hid her expression behind a sip of water. “He has a very calm presence, of course. Vulcans. But he will be affected somewhat by your emotions. There can be some bleedover afterward, especially with strong emotions.”

Anne stared, aghast. “He’d better make sure he wants to do this. That is a lot-- a lot--” She stuttered to a halt, and then tried again. “I only testified against Tarenn. I know the rest was worse, even if I can't get at it.”

Nodding, Uhura set her mouth. “It won’t change his mind, but I’ll let him know so that he’s prepared for it.”

Anne was silent for a moment, and then asked timidly, “Will we be aware of anything outside of it?”

Uhura shook her head. “Not much, no. But it’s not like you’ll have forgotten what’s outside.”

It took her a moment to ask the question that had been eating at her. “What if I want to keep something private?” 

Uhura smiled reassuringly. “He doesn't pry. He might catch a glimpse of it, but he won't examine anything that isn't related to the mission. You'll know what he's looking at anyway.”

That, at least, was a relief. “I’m not sure what else to ask. Is there any advice you’d give me?”

Shaking her head again, Uhura answered, “No, not really. There’s nothing you can do about the knowledge that someone else has been in your head, although if necessary Spock could excise the memory of it.”

“I already have enough holes in my head,” Anne said darkly.

“I thought you might say that. In that case, all I can say to you is this-- Spock is a good person. If he can avoid hurting you, he will, and if he can’t, he’ll make it quick.“ The serene certainty in Uhura’s eyes confirmed her confidence in Spock.

“Thank heaven for small mercies,” Anne said wryly. “All right. I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Will you tell Mr. Spock for me that I’m at his disposal? I’m sure Mr. Scott won’t mind losing me for a day or so as long as he has some warning.”

“I’ll relay your messages and get him to contact you. We’ll get everything set up for you. Am I right in thinking the sooner done, the better?” Uhura asked.

“There’s no point in drawing it out. I’ll talk to Captain Kirk; I’m going to ask him to be present.” The thought of him with her made it a little easier to bear.

“That’s a good idea. He’ll want to know what goes on.” Uhura stood, then paused, looking down at Anne. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to take any chances with anyone unless it can’t be avoided.”

Anne swallowed, feeling a little ill. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” As the elegant woman began to walk away, Anne added, “This needs to happen soon. I feel… I don’t know. I feel it.”

Uhura nodded and left the room, and Anne curled up in her chair, wrapping her arms around her knees. That restless feeling was only getting stronger, her body buzzing with it. She couldn’t tell whether it was just fear or not, and she had no way of finding out.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Violence/gore.**

Kirk strode down the hall beside Anne, his brows drawn into a scowl. “When were you thinking you would tell me about this?” he demanded, trying to keep pace with Anne. Despite her shorter stature, she was moving along at a clip that could have left him behind.

“Please don’t. I meant to tell you, and then I got the message from Spock, and… they’re already all waiting for me.” Anne’s shoulders were squared, but Kirk could see her trembling. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner, but…”

At least this explained her agitation at dinner. She’d been quiet about it, and she hadn’t answered when he’d asked, but he’d left it alone, deciding that if she didn’t want to talk there was probably a reason. “Anne, look, you could have told them to wait. I’m not that upset about it, but insisting that this has to happen in the middle of the night--”

“It does. Ever since I talked to Lieutenant Uhura, I’ve just been feeling sicker and sicker, and I finally get it. This needs to happen now.” She looked up at him, and he saw the naked fear in her eyes. “I do not want to do this but it has to happen right now, right away.”

“You could have at least warned me at dinner,” Kirk said dryly. “Here I was thinking it would take a couple more days, and you’ve been railroading everything.”

“And don’t you think I would be delaying if I could?” Anne asked, her voice ragged, sounding a bit odd around the edges. “Don’t you think I’d be avoiding this?”

“I know. That’s why I’m not mad about it. Just… worried. Maybe a little irritated. I was having a really interesting dream.” Kirk risked a joke. “There were Klingons in it.”

That won him only a wan smile from her. At least it was a smile. “I’m sorry. But I’m not doing this because I want to.”

Up ahead were the doors to the med bay. Kirk could already see Bones standing there, waiting for them, and Kirk’s scowl had been a pale shadow of his. Before they got too close, Kirk laid a hand on Anne’s shoulder, pulling her off to the side where they wouldn’t be seen.

Her whole body was trembling, her breathing as fast as it had been when she’d been on the witness stand. “Hey,” he said, gathering her against him, wrapping his arms around her. She was so small, and she seemed so fragile. He sort of wanted to hit the brakes on this whole thing. Was this really worth it? “It’s gonna be okay. Take a breath, get calm, and then we’ll go in.”

With a strangled little noise, she buried her face in his chest, her tension turning into a lean against him. For a few long seconds, she stood there, letting her breathing slow, and then she firmly pulled away. “We’re running out of time,” she said, catching one of his hands in hers. Lifting it, she pressed her lips to his knuckles. “But thank you.”

Then she was off again, the doors sliding open in front of her. Kirk followed in her wake, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles where her lips had touched them, trying to pretend like he wasn’t groggy and confused and worried and wishing he’d woken up to a completely different reason for her to want him awake.

Bones frowned even harder, if possible, having seen Kirk pull them out of sight. “Took you long enough,” he said acidly, even though it had been barely minutes since the rest of them had assembled.

“Mr. Spock. Now. Right now. Something is very, very wrong.” Anne hopped up on one of the beds, her eyes huge with fear, her voice still sounding odd, as if she was shaping her words differently.

“I had assumed there was a reason for your haste,” Spock said, approaching her and lifting a hand.

“Now wait just a goddamn minute,” Bones started.

“Trust my patient’s instincts, Leonard,” Dr. Hayes said. Instead of her uniform, she was wearing a negligee that Kirk might have wanted to take a closer look at if he hadn’t been so preoccupied. So they’d rousted her out of bed fast enough that she hadn’t had time to change. At least he wasn’t the only one caught off-guard. “If she says something is wrong, then something is wrong. We can pick up the pieces afterward.”

Spock’s fingertips made contact, and he murmured the traditional words of the meld.Anne’s eyes rolled up in her head, sliding closed. Her body slumped, then started to sag, and Kirk caught her and gently laid her down, never breaking her contact with Spock.

For a few long moments, everyone was silent.

“So when do we know if anything’s happened?” McCoy said.

Dr. Hayes was already laying out instruments she might need, sedatives, whatever she had handy to stem off any possibility Kirk could imagine. “I have the feeling--”

Anne suddenly inhaled and shot back up, her eyes wild with terror. “Spock,” she gasped.

Spock was already moving for Dr. Hayes’ array of instruments. “Do not attempt to stop her, Captain, Dr. McCoy,” Spock said, his voice firm. Brushing aside the laser scalpel, he grabbed an old fashioned metal scalpel from the tray and tossed it to Anne, who snatched it out of the air as if she’d done it a thousand times before.

Yanking up her dress, Anne exposed her thighs. Before Kirk could make sense of this, she brought the scalpel down, slicing open her thigh about halfway down, closer to the inside than the outside. Blood gushed from the wound, spilling over onto the bed.

Despite himself, Kirk started forward, meaning to grab her hand, at least until he could get an explanation. Spock’s voice was the only thing that held him back. “Captain, if you wish to help, you may hold her steady. If she cuts too deeply, there is a very real possibility that we may all die. Doctor, please do not administer any anesthetic, as we cannot risk affecting her motor control or sensitivity.”

“That insulin regulator,” Bones said, his eyes lighting with memory. “What’s wrong with it?”

Kirk found himself pressing his hands to her thigh, keeping her leg steady while she cut deeper and deeper into the muscle, trying to ignore her soft whimpers whenever she lifted the knife.

“Doctor, please draw a vial of blood large enough to contain the object from somewhere that will not interfere with her excision, and use a thickening agent to congeal it. If the device comes into contact with anything other than her genetic material, it may explode.” 

“On it,” Bones said, grabbing a hypo and a vial. Dr. Hayes followed him, grabbing suction and applying it to the wound Anne was creating.

“Captain, if you would be so good as to contact Mr. Chekov and Mr. Scott, the device will need to be either shielded from all possible signals or beamed off the ship to be detonated. I will contact Mr. Sulu and notify him that he must halt the ship’s forward momentum as we do not know whether there is a physical boundary beyond which the device activates.” Spock stepped away, flipping open his communicator.

“I’ve got this, Captain,” Dr. Hayes said, taking over from him.

Kirk flipped open his communicator, rousing both Chekov and Scotty, and notifying them of the necessary actions. “You have maybe five minutes to get ready, Mr. Scott.” In truth, he had no idea. “If you can’t get it to a shielded container, tell Chekov to beam it off the ship, as far away as he can get it.”

“Aye, sir,” Scotty said.

Then, once all the instructions had been given, all he could do was wait, his hand on Anne’s shoulder to offer what comfort he could.

After a few long moments, Spock said softly, “We dare not risk cutting further, Ms. Hardesty.”

Her head lifted, and Kirk saw her bottom lip tremble as she looked up at Spock, her skin dead white and her eyes like dirty ice. She nodded once and tossed the scalpel aside, then plunged her finger into the wound. Even though he had suspected it was coming, Kirk couldn’t help but tense, her guttural cry of pain making him wish the bastard who’d done this was in front of him now. The two doctors were entirely calm by now, McCoy pulling away the hypo and preparing to uncap the vial of blood. Dr. Hayes continued suction, keeping the wound relatively free of blood.

It seemed like eternity before Anne snarled, “Got it.” Her voice was so distorted by pain that Kirk barely recognized it. As she pulled her fingers out of the wound, a piece of dull plastic filmed with blood held between them, McCoy uncapped the vial and let her drop it in, then snapped it shut.

“Mr. Chekov, now,” Kirk said, and Chekov didn’t waste time with an acknowledgment. The vial shimmered, and disappeared.

“If I had realized it was there, I could have told you I’m not diabetic,” Anne said, her lips bloodless and her voice oddly accented. Her eyes were huge and glassy-- probably shock. Kirk realized he’d gotten blood on her shoulder, and then that the dress was ruined anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“They were exceedingly clever,” Spock said. “It was meant to be undetectable. If you had not come out of anesthesia during the surgery, we might have brought you back into Loche’s sphere of influence only to damage the ship.”

McCoy busied himself by handing Dr. Hayes the protoplaser, and dialing up a shot of anesthetic. “Goddamned dirty business. Any other medical conditions you don’t have that I should know about?”

“I'll have Mason forward you my last set of files.” Anne began to shiver, her teeth chattering. What was that accent? It wasn’t strong enough to identify.

“All clear, sir,” Scotty’s voice came. “We’ve got a wee red vial locked in a subspace refraction pattern that keeps any signal from getting in or out.”

Kirk lifted his open communicator. “Good job, Scotty. You too, Mr. Chekov. Get some rest. I’ll brief you tomorrow.” They acknowledged, and signed off.

Spock retrieved the scalpel from the floor where it had landed, and placed it next to the rest of Dr. Hayes’ equipment, then turned to Kirk. “Captain, if you wish to remain in the med bay, I will be glad to take the conn in your stead at 0700. Your presence would be far more comforting to Ms. Hardesty than mine; she holds you in great esteem.”

Anne’s eyes, which had been sliding half closed, flew open. “We’re not done, Mr. Spock,” she said through teeth gritted to stop their chattering.

“Oh yes you are,” Bones said, loading up another hypo with a sedative. “Sit on her or something, will you, Jim? I can’t have her kicking up her heels all over my med bay.”

His sense of the absurd abruptly reasserting itself, Kirk chuckled and wiped a stray bead of blood away from Anne’s cheek. “You liar. You said you weren’t interesting.” He was rewarded with the ghost of a smile and Anne’s head sinking to rest against his chest.

“There,” Dr. Hayes said, standing up. “Not quite as good as new, but it’ll do for the moment. Now, what the hell just happened?” As she spoke, she began to clean her equipment and put it away by rote, watching Kirk and Anne sharply.

“The device was implanted in Ms. Hardesty by her former captor, possibly as a precaution against escape attempts. However, we could not be certain that it was not also keyed to detonate should she cross back into his territory, or that it would not send out a signal to let him know of any such attempt. We agreed that we could not waste the time finding out; now that it is neutralized, I will be able to study it, and perhaps overcome the genetic requirement so that it can be safely handled with tools.” Spock glanced at Kirk. “Further questions must wait until I have analyzed the device. With your permission, Captain, I’ll take my leave.”

Kirk nodded. “Thanks, Spock. I’d have hated to put another hole in this ship so soon after the last. Get some rest.” Spock nodded and turned to leave the med bay.

Dr. Hayes looked thoughtfully at Anne, then shook her hair over her shoulder and wiped the last of the blood from her hands. “Well, show’s over then. I’ll see you in the morning, Anne.” Anne murmured an indistinct assent. “Call me if you need me, Leonard, Captain.” With a last frown for Kirk, she too left the med bay.

Bones continued to clean up, and then said, “Go get yourself some scrubs and have a shower, you’re covered in blood. And get one of those isolation rooms ready. You two can stay in there tonight.”

Kirk really didn’t want to leave her so soon. “I don’t care about the blood, Bones, and I don’t think she does either.”

“ _I_ care, dammit. She’s filthy, and that dress is garbage. And _I’m_ a doctor, so I can clean her up, but not with you around. Have some respect for the privacy of my patient.”

“Oh.” Kirk had to admit that there was a definite rationale there. He sighed, then ran a thumb over Anne’s cheek. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

Anne pushed herself away, swaying, and looked up at him. That awful shaking had stopped, and her eyes were dreamy with the sedative. “I won’t go anywhere,” she said, her mouth soft, her eyes still managing to convey that she was making a joke. He couldn’t help a smile at that, and that soft mouth of hers slowly answered his. As he turned, he saw Bones pull out a pair of medical shears.

Once he’d washed off and dressed in a set of baggy scrubs, he returned to find Anne lying on the exam table, clean and wearing one of the standard issue med bay scrub gowns, her hair taken down from its customary twist, a silver corona spread out around her head and flowing over the sides of the table. Kirk hadn’t seen it down since he’d rescued her, and then it had been matted, the color indistinguishable. The silver locks softened her angular cheeks, making her seem more touchable somehow. McCoy walked out of one of the isolation rooms. “Took you long enough. It’s all ready,” Bones said. “Can you help her over here?”

Kirk just walked over and slid his arms under her knees and her shoulders, picking her up. Her eyes fluttered open. “Why am I always falling asleep on you?” she asked, her mouth curving up into a kissable little smile.

“Maybe I’m the boring one,” Kirk answered with a grin of his own.

“I’m adding that to the list,” Anne said drowsily. 

Once Bones had turned the covers back, Kirk gently laid her down and stood aside so that Bones could adjust his sensors, then tucked the covers around her. “Need anything?” he asked, stroking her hair out of her face.

Her eyes flew open, as if she’d made a sudden grab for consciousness. “A different life?”

“Nope. You’re stuck with this one.” Kirk grinned. “Come on, hanging around with me can’t be that bad.”

Her smile reappeared, her eyelids drifting downward. “How about a motorcycle ride?”

“Done. Next shore leave. I’ll even pop a wheelie.” He ran his thumb over her cheekbone again, and then Bones caught his eye, jerking his head toward the door. “I’ll be just outside the door. Press the call button if you need me before I get back.”

Outside the isolation room, McCoy said, “Sit,” pointing to one of the chairs, and walked off to the controlled substances cabinets. When he came back, he had a pair of tumblers and a bottle of bourbon. Pouring them each a generous measure, he sat down in the chair beside Kirk’s and tossed back a swallow. “Damnedest thing,” McCoy said. “She knew it. That’s why she pushed everything so hard.”

“She didn’t know she knew it.” Kirk sipped his bourbon. “I’ll bet she doesn’t know she knows where that bastard is, too.”

Instead of answering, Bones stayed silent, and then heaved a long sigh. “Jim, I always thought you had the right idea. Women are trouble. Never stick with one long enough to let ‘em drag you into it. First rough spot and you’re gone.” He propped his ankle on the opposite knee. “And then trouble comes and drags a woman to you, and you’re standing still for it like that’s not the worst thing you could do for both of you.”

“Bones…” Kirk heaved a sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. That I didn’t mean to get involved? I didn’t realize I was until it was too late. That she’s funny, and smart, and she thinks I’m fantastic-- yeah, okay. But I don’t know where the hell any of it’s going, whether it’s going to be just friends or what.”

Swirling the bourbon slowly around in his glass, Bones stared absently into it. “By the time you’re spending the night together, you’re sort of past the ‘just friends’ part of things.”

Kirk snorted. “Now you’re imagining things.”

“I woke you both up myself, in case you forgot.” Bones fixed him with a glare.

“We were drunk and we passed out. Nothing happened,” Kirk protested, a little stung. He'd been so careful with her that night-- once she’d lain down on him, he'd barely moved just in case she woke up and got frightened. Still… she'd felt safe enough to sleep on him. He must have done something right. She hadn't been worried for even a second. Nothing at all had happened.

“From you?” Bones tossed back the rest of his bourbon and stood up, grabbing the bottle. “That’s worse.”

Kirk had no answer to that; Bones was right. He threw back the bourbon, grimacing, and then handed Bones the tumbler and stood.

“Go on, she’s probably lying in there fighting to stay awake until you get back. Get some sleep. I’m keeping an eye on the monitors, and your calls will be routed through me for the night. I’ll wake you up if you’re needed.” Crossing the room to the controlled substances cabinets, he opened one up to put the bourbon back.

Once the door had closed behind him, Kirk looked down at Anne, her fine drawn lashes and angular cheeks, her pallor, the body beneath the covers that was still so thin. If he wanted to stay sane, he should just leave and let Bones watch over her. She’d be fine. He’d be fine. They’d still be friends-- she wasn’t one of those people who got attached. Neither was he.

Her eyes opened, and Kirk felt it like someone was drawing a fingertip up his spine. They were hazy, unfocused, but he knew she saw him because she smiled. “Coming,” he said, smiling crookedly. Unexplored territory. As he came toward her, he realized that she'd moved over, making room for him in the narrow bed. Who was he to refuse? He drew back the covers and slid in beside her, murmuring to the lights to dim them. Whether or not the bed was narrow might not have mattered; she nestled sweetly against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her lips just brushing his skin above the edge of the scrub shirt. Not the least provocative sensation, but then, the rest of the circumstances were more than enough to keep his imagination from getting carried away. Settling her against him and throwing an arm over her, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “What are we even doing, Anne?” he softly asked the silence.

His voice must have roused her; she slid an arm over him and stretched her legs, tangling them with his. “Sleeping,” she whispered, her lips moving against his skin. And soon, they were.

* * *

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/168202543076/deleted-scene-7)


	22. Chapter 22

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/168445172721/walking-wounded-deleted-scene-8)

* * *

Anne knew he was awake when she felt Kirk catch his breath, his cheek pressed against the top of her head and the length of him stretched out against her. “Hey, gorgeous,” he murmured sleepily. “Come here often? What's your sign?”  


If she hadn’t been lying awake for so long already, she might have laughed. “You’re really not making this very easy, Jim,” she breathed, her lips brushing against his skin as she spoke. Once, she would have followed that with a flick of her tongue, but…

Carefully, he began to disentangle himself from her. “If you need some space--”

Anne laughed, cutting him off, and pressed closer. That might not have been the smart thing to do, but her needs seemed to be pointing in the opposite direction from smart. “You know, if things had been just a little different, you may have woken up with my hand down your pants.” The thought was giddy, scary, and felt like it might drown her.

Could she even handle something like that?

Well, she wanted to try. She’d make sure he knew it wasn’t his fault if she couldn’t.

Kirk let out a harsh sigh, his arms settling back around her, hands pressing her to him. “Now you’re not making this easy,” he said.

It crossed her mind to make the obvious joke, but Anne didn’t feel in a joking mood. “There is a whole ward of people out there trying not to gawk through the windows because their Captain is crashed out in bed wrapped around some girl. And I swear to god if there weren’t any windows, I would already be trying to get myself into trouble here.”

She felt him fighting himself, his discretion warring with his desire, and finally he said, “Then next time it’ll have to be your quarters or mine.” The growl in his voice made her stomach clench in an agony of anticipation and nervousness bordering on fear.

Anne began, “If… if I can’t--”

The doors hissed open, and she felt herself tense. Cracking open an eye, Anne saw Dr. Hayes standing at the foot of the bed, scowling down at them, her fists on her hips. “This is so incredibly inappropriate that I have no clue how Leonard ever let it happen,” she said quietly. “Anne, your respiration says you’re awake. Come on. We need to talk.”

Feeling rebellious, Anne slowly stretched, her lips pressing briefly against the pulse in Kirk’s neck, and then languidly pushed herself up from the bed. It hadn’t been a kiss, not quite. Planting a hand, she looked at Dr. Hayes and then deliberately leaned down so that the tips of her hair danced over Kirk’s face. His blue eyes flicked open, holding a warning, or perhaps a promise, that made her skin ache to be touched. “Stay if you like,” Anne said. “You couldn’t have slept that well with me kicking you.”

“I was too tired to feel it,” he said, grinning, although his eyes questioned her. “Slept like a baby.”

Anne glanced up at the clock. “Lunch, then? 1400 hours?”

Kirk seemed to think about this. “Meet you in the lounge?”

As opposed to meeting in her room, or his? “That’s probably the safest bet,” she said, pushing herself up. She ran a hand through her hair and then his, enjoying the crisp feel of his hair between her fingers. “Be good,” she said, and slid out of bed, knowing he’d get a little show of leg as the nightgown slid down. Pushing her feet into some slippers that she found under the bed, she looked mildly up at Dr. Hayes. “Where to?”

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her, but led her from the room, slowing her pace when she realized that Anne was having a little trouble walking. The office wasn’t far, however, and as the door slid shut behind them, Dr. Hayes gestured to the chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat,” she said, half-sitting on the edge of the desk and folding her arms across her chest. Anne just watched her attentively, waiting for her to speak. There was a curious expression in Dr. Hayes’ eyes, as if she was torn between opinions. Finally, she said, “This hero complex you both are feeding into can be pretty powerful stuff, but it’s not genuine.”

Taken aback, Anne asked, “Do you think I don’t know the difference between something real and something in my head?” At Dr. Hayes’ ironic look, she had to backpedal. “All right, bad phrasing. Do you think I don’t know the difference between something I’m making up and something I’m seeing?”

“Do you?” Dr. Hayes asked. “I’m not saying you don’t, Anne, but do you?”

“That’s a ridiculous question. Of course I do.” It was an effort to assert herself, but she did it, and she thought she caught a glimpse of surprise in Dr. Hayes’ eyes. “The hero complex is there, but it’s not the focus. It’s a tool I’m using to push myself. I feel safe with him-- so I push myself harder when I’m with him.”

“Relationships like that become dependent on the drama of rescuing and being rescued to survive. What happens in five years when you’re both sick of it, or worse, addicted to it?” Dr. Hayes’ beautifully formed lips pressed together, her eyes concerned. 

Anne’s answer came immediately. “This won't last that long. It can’t. I can’t imagine him giving up the Enterprise. I wouldn’t want him to. And I couldn't possibly write trapped on a ship with all these people.” Hopefully that was why. Hopefully she just had to leave the ship and it would come back. “There’s no way this can work out in the long term, and I don’t want it to.”

“And you’ll just leave it at that, no matter what?” Dr. Hayes looked surprised, and maybe a little disbelieving. Anne had the feeling it was as much for her confrontational tone as it was for the content of her words. “You’ve already decided this before you’ve even really started?”

Anne shrugged. “He’s not my first, he won’t be my last. I don’t know if it’s leftover attitudes from three hundred years ago or what, but just because I’m female doesn’t mean I want to settle down with someone.” She smirked. “Now, if we happen to meet again in twenty years, well, things might have changed.”

Scrutinizing her closely, Dr. Hayes leaned back, bracing herself on her arm. “I think I see why he and I had such a miscommunication at first. If this is the Anne he’s been talking to, I’m not surprised he described you as functional but unhealthy. Not that he’s anyone to talk.”

“He really isn’t, is he?” Anne grinned. “It’s so cute.”

Dr. Hayes sighed, covering her face. “Fine. I’m not going to bother you about it anymore today, not when we have more important things to talk about. Mr. Spock and I conferenced this morning, and he would like to suggest that starting tomorrow, we do short mind meld sessions as often as you and he can handle them, but no more than once a day. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but strong emotions can actually damage the Vulcan brain, and he says that this plan will both minimize the damage to him and potentially yield more useful information. You’ll have to talk to him to get the particulars, but I got the impression he had glimpsed some promising memories but did not have time to address them.”

Now that the urgency for the mind meld was gone, Anne felt reluctant, but she was no longer afraid of it. When he had been inside her head, Spock had been like a cool shower on a scorching day, bringing some relief with his emotional control and his precision of thought. Communicating with him had been fascinating; she knew he’d skimmed the surface of her mind, experienced bits of her feelings about Kirk, touched briefly on the yawning gulf where her writing had been, and then caught her panicked rifling through her own mind, trying to find the source of her anxiety. Immediately, he had helped, and they’d re-experienced the gasping glimpse of wakefulness, the pain in her thigh, the surgeon saying, “Detonator,” and holding out his hand. A strip of her flesh had lain on his palm-- she’d blearily seen him key the detonator to her DNA.

The conference afterward may have taken mere milliseconds, but they had deliberated for what felt like quite some time. They both agreed that not knowing what would set it off meant that it and she were dangerous, and that cutting it out would be the best course of action. Not knowing how sensitive it was, they couldn’t even risk using a laser scalpel… and not knowing whether it needed constant contact, they couldn’t afford to assume that it didn’t. Even the plastic sides of the vial presented a risk, one that they decided was acceptable, since it would be nearly impossible to get the detonator to make contact without a film of her blood in the way.

“Anne?” Dr. Hayes asked quietly.

“I’m here, Doctor. I was just thinking about what happened during the mind meld.” Anne smiled ruefully. She could feel the assurance she’d felt around Kirk fading. “It’s Spock’s call. He can name his time; I can ask Mr. Scott to adjust my hours to fit it.”

“I’ll make arrangements. I’m definitely overseeing this. And… if you need the Captain there, we’ll have to accommodate him as well.” Dr. Hayes sighed. “Also I’ve just decided on a course of therapy for you. You can thank the Captain for that as well. He inspired it.”

Anne gave her a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“If you consent to it, I’m going to stimulate your production of oxytocin and prolactin during your therapy sessions with me. Those are the hormones associated with trust and bonding. Basically, you’ve been doing a smaller-scale version of this to yourself already by spending time with the Captain, which is why you show such… remarkable… improvement around him. I’d thought that might be the case, and you confirmed it this morning by the way you’re acting. Now, between you and Spock breaking down your mental barriers, the hormone stimulation, and proper therapy, we should see some rapid gains. I’m not saying that you’re going to be better immediately; so far as I know, this has never been done before in conjunction with mind melds, so we don’t know for sure what sort of timeline we’re looking at. But it’s promising.” Dr. Hayes looked away, folding her arms across her chest again. “And if you agree, I’d also like your consent to publish a case study on this treatment. It won’t contain your name or identifying information.”

Flustered, Anne could only blink at her for a moment. It was rather a lot to take in. After a moment, she said, “I’ll need to know potential side effects and such, but tentatively, yes. And by all means, write a paper. If this turns out to be useful, people should know about it.”

Dr. Hayes smirked, and it looked like it was aimed at herself rather than Anne. “It feels so self-serving to ask things like that. I never got the hang of it. All right.” She picked up her padd. “Here’s some documentation, side effects and consent forms and such. If you don’t mind, I’ll just examine your leg while you read.”


	23. Chapter 23

Everyone in the med bay had seemed to be busy when he left the isolation room, but Kirk could almost feel the curiosity in the air. He hadn’t apologized for his presence, either in words or in action; he’d strolled through the room, stopping to talk to a pretty nurse, and walked out into the hall as if he had every right to be wandering around dressed in scrubs after sleeping with a patient. Dr. Hayes had been right; it was inappropriate. He didn’t care.  


After changing, showering, and spending a little time reading, he made his way to the lounge to meet Anne for lunch. It was a late lunch, so the lounge was nearly empty, and he had his pick of seats. Anne wasn’t there yet. Seating himself at the corner table with the view, he watched the room, sipping a coffee the server had brought.

While he waited, he saw Scotty enter the room and waved him over. After getting a coffee of his own, Scotty came and sat down in the chair Kirk indicated, the one that wasn’t in the corner. “G’dafternoon, Captain,” Scotty said. “So what’s in that wee vial?”

“Blood, Scotty. And a bomb.” Kirk filled him in on the events of the night before. After finishing his account-- leaving out the part about him staying with Anne-- he said, “I suspect things are going to heat up soon. Spock is going to work with Anne to see if they can find us co-ordinates or useful leads on the location of Loche’s ship.” He hadn’t confirmed this yet, but he knew Spock, and he knew Anne. “We’ll need to be ready. How’s the runabout?”

“She’ll go if you need her, Captain. Put the dings and scratches on her myself.” Scotty sighed. “Orion technology is finicky, though. It may need some nursing along. I’m doing my best wi’ it, but it’s a pain in the arse.”

“Hopefully we don’t need it,” Kirk said. “I’m hoping for a straightforward ship to ship confrontation. The Enterprise can handle anything that gets thrown at it.” He grinned. “Even if we have to resort to classical music.”

Scotty chuckled. “That Jaylah sent me a message. Top of her class, she is, but her instructors gie her a hard time because she likes to cut her own orders.”

Shaking his head, Kirk smiled widely. “We’ll see how she does.” Scotty kept campaigning for Kirk to offer Jaylah a position on the Enterprise. Kirk wasn’t sure if the relationship between the two of them was romantic or friendship or professional compatibility, or if they’d even bothered to define it; it just was. But he already knew Jaylah would work well with them. She had before. And he kept an eye on her performance, which was stellar, aside from the insubordination. It was likely she’d end up on the Enterprise at the end of her studies.

A silver glint caught his eye, and he looked up to see Anne walking towards his table. She looked solemn, but her eyes lit up when they met his, and a lightness came into her step in spite of her limp. Kirk sat back, smiling, and pulled out her chair, looking her over. The soft grey dress she wore looked touchable, inviting, and the dark circles and gauntness she’d had when he first saw her had disappeared, though it was clear that she was still recovering from something, and still too thin. But she looked... happier, and it suited her.

“Well, I’d better be off,” Scotty said, and it almost surprised Kirk. For a moment, he’d forgotten Scotty was there.

Anne caught his words, and said as she walked up, “No, please stay a bit, Mr. Scott. I have a schedule change that I would like your permission for.”

Scotty eased back into his chair, glancing at Kirk. “All right, lassie. What is it?”

Anne slid into the chair beside Kirk, smiling at him as she sat down, and then turned her attention to Scotty. “Commander Spock and I will be working on a project that will help us learn more information about the smuggling ring. Since Mr. Spock has command on second shift, it’s best to do this beforehand, on first. If I could come in at 0500 and leave at 1300 hours, that would make it far more convenient for us. Is that acceptable to you?”

Scotty considered for a moment, toying with his coffee cup. “Check in with Keenser when you come in. He’s there at all hours-- I’m not sure if he sleeps. He’ll set you up familiarizing yourself with the warp core maintenance functions and what to do if there’s an emergency that needs us.”

Kirk gave Scotty a look of surprise. “I thought you were just having her repair things.”

“And waste a bright girl like that? Ha! No, she has the rank of crewman first class, so she has the duties as well. It’s just she has to learn them on the fly.” Scotty sipped his coffee and looked to Anne. “How’re yer studies, lassie? It’s a lot to learn at once, I know.”

Shrugging, Anne said, “I’m all right. Ms. Reynolds has been assisting me if I need it.” Kirk made a soft, incredulous noise and Anne glanced at him, amused at his surprise. “You didn’t think I was just loafing around, did you? You’re not the only thing in my life.”

Kirk shook his head, laughing. “I just didn’t expect the artistic type to take to engineering so easily.”

Anne shrugged. “You should take a better look at my aptitude tests. I like to know how things work.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Scotty pushed away from the table and stood. “I’d best be off. We’ll see ye the day after tomorrow.” Kirk nodded, and Anne gave Scotty a brilliant smile. It teased a grin from Scotty, and he started to whistle as he walked off.

Once he had left, Kirk turned to Anne. “Did you get your face chewed off?” He was starting to think Dr. Hayes might be a teeny bit more aggressive than her polished beauty suggested. Good. It meant Bones wouldn’t run roughshod over her.

“Almost,” Anne said, her smile fading. “She did bring up something that I think needs to be said out loud.”

Was this a relationship talk? The air seemed to close in around them. Kirk frowned. “And what’s that?”

“Whatever happens, we’re not…” Anne paused, shaking her head. “I feel so awkward. This is ridiculous.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t stay on the ship forever, and you can’t leave it. Eventually, maybe sooner than would be good for our friendship-- or anything else-- we’re going in different directions. I want you to know that when it happens, I’m not going to have any hard feelings about it.”

Kirk had to give this some thought, hiding it behind a long drink from his coffee mug. He had been concentrating on the present, and had left the future as a big question mark. He’d never had to consider it before. His close friends were all his crew members. Even his flings tended to be Starfleet, and there were no illusions about romance when you served on different ships. Hunting among his own crew had been… problematic, until he’d found a few discreet ladies that had no designs on him or his rank. But Anne was none of these things, whether it was just that she wasn’t Starfleet, or whether it was that it was starting to be known that there was something going on between them, even if neither of them was quite sure what it would be just yet. If he wanted something more than a friendship, it had to be with the knowledge that there was a cutoff approaching.

“You’re right to bring it up,” he said finally. “I’m not going to say it won’t be an issue, but I don’t think hard feelings will be a part of it. That’s never been my style.” Why get involved if it only had to end? What did she think about that?

Looking back at her told him everything he needed to know. She was still here, watching him, her eyes conveying her trust. “Good. I don’t want either of us to be blindsided.” She offered a little grin. “Besides, it’s not that big a galaxy. I’m sure we’ll run into each other somewhere down the line.”

That was also true. They’d found out a day or two ago that he’d had shore leave on Risa when she was living there; had he known her then, he would have looked her up. “You have a definite point. For now, though, we’ve got the length of this mission, plus a guaranteed two week shore leave on Yorktown. Maybe longer, if there are enough convictions we need to be there for.”

“Guess Spock and I better look hard,” Anne said with a wry grin.

“Not hard enough that either of you get hurt,” Kirk said. “Captain’s orders.”

Anne gave him a flat, incredulous look.

“What?” Surely that had occurred to her. “You do have a rank, and you _are_ on my ship. If I give you an order, it’s either for your safety or for the safety of the crew in general, and I expect it to be obeyed.”

Anne shook her head and sighed. “Now I remember why I decided against Starfleet.” She gave him another wry little grin. “How did they ever let you through?”

Laughing, Kirk looked down into his coffee. “I might not have made it if I hadn’t stopped some very nasty people and gotten a commendation. It was a bit dicey there for a while-- they had me on suspension.”

“That I believe,” Anne said. “Well, your good luck is mine, I guess. And yes, I’ll follow orders when I’m on the clock. But on my own time--”

“When we’re not on the clock... I’m not the Captain. Not with you.” The decision had snuck up on him, but Kirk meant it. The rank was important to him, part of him, but this was different. She didn’t need a Captain, she needed a friend-- someone on equal footing, even if it left him feeling odd and a bit naked in a way that wasn’t comfortable. 

Anne’s peculiarly intense gaze stayed on his eyes, and again he had that feeling that she was seeing more than he’d said. A little smile played on her lips. “Thank you. I’m not sure I’ve ever been paid a higher compliment.”

He shouldn’t have found it odd that she realized how essential it was to his identity to be the Captain of the Enterprise. “You’re welcome.” Talking about it further would cut too close to… just too close. “But let’s get some lunch. Are you going to finish out your shift in Engineering today?” Kirk waved over the server.

“Medical says I should take the day off. My leg isn’t fully healed, and walking around so much will slow the healing further.” Anne looked down, her lips curving in amusement. “And I’m going to be in therapy every day, starting after my day off tomorrow. Dr. Hayes thinks she can take advantage of the mind melds plus some hormone trickery to get me a little more stable when you’re not around for me to lean on.”

“Hormone trickery?” Kirk asked, frowning, but it was at that point the server arrived at the table.

“What would you like, sir, ma’am?” The man smiled broadly at both of them.

Anne and Kirk looked at each other, and somehow it was decided that he would order. “Eggs benedict with smoked salmon for both of us. And coffee for the lady. Cream, no sugar.”

The server nodded. “Right away.”

As he left, Kirk asked, “What’s this about hormones?”

He didn’t expect Anne’s snicker. “We should have gone for the controlled substances cabinet when we had the chance. Ostensibly, the doctor is loading me up with the hormones involved in trust and bonding, but I read the side effects. Euphoria, heightened sensory perception… sounds like a fun ride.”

“No way,” Kirk said, piqued. “They’re giving you the good stuff? Why don’t I ever get any of that?” He was joking, but the idea was interesting.

“Only for the duration of the therapy session. Then they give me the counteractive and it goes away in about five minutes.” Anne sighed. “Waste of a good high. Then again, I used to know a guy on Yorktown…”

“Rules and regs, Anne,” Kirk said, although his rebuff didn’t quite have the strength behind it that it should.

He had the feeling she’d picked up on his lack of censure, but she didn’t make an issue of it. “Right, right. Permanent record and all that, got it.” Anne sighed. “Again, reasons I didn’t join Starfleet.”

Kirk just watched her. “You know, you really, really misrepresented yourself during that first dinner we had,” he finally said, laughing.

Anne blinked, surprised. “Why, what do you mean?”

Of course, the server chose that moment to reappear with their food, placing it on the table in front of them. “Enjoy your meal, Captain, ma’am.”

Kirk watched the man walk away, and then answered, “Writing, gardening, cooking, saying you were uninteresting… and yet here you are a constant wanderer with Klingon love affairs and alleged connections to controlled substances.” Not to mention the way her voice blurred into a different accent when she was under stress. He wasn’t sure about bringing that up, though. If he pushed her, she might close herself off, and he didn't want that.

Anne frowned playfully at him as she sipped her coffee. “It wasn’t a love affair, it was-- well, anyway. It’s not like that happens because I live a wild life. I just talk to people--”

“And then you end up living a wild life because of the people you talked to, and said life happens to have gardening and cooking somewhere on the edges,” Kirk teased. “Come on now, Anne. How can you not make the connection there?”

Instead of laughing, she surprised him by taking it seriously. “I suppose it looks that way on the outside. It’s a little different when you’re on the inside. To me, the gardening and the cooking and the writing are what happens all the time, and the other things are once-offs that I choose to go along with because… it’s research, basically. You can’t write if you don’t live.” She smirked, and her eyes became shadowed. “Even the trial was research, right up until I took the stand.”

A layer of detachment between her and her experiences. That was something Kirk had started to develop once he took the Captain’s chair, and he was still working on it. A good captain could view things objectively in the heat of the moment. “Is everything like that?” he asked, curious. It was strange to meet someone who talked like that detachment was native, or at least so long-developed that it was second nature. It reminded him of Vulcans, in a way.

She surprised him again when she set down the coffee cup, looking a bit offended. “Not everything is research.” Her expression softened almost immediately. “I realize how that came off, but no, some things just… are. I don’t always get to pick them, but sometimes I luck out.”

Kirk couldn’t suppress the little smile he felt playing at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t need a flashing sign to tell him why she’d been offended. “My turn to thank you for the compliment, I guess.”

Her cheeks pinked adorably. “You’re welcome.”

Suddenly spending the rest of the day without having dinner with her to look forward to seemed incredibly dull. “Well, if you’re not going back to Engineering, and we’ve both got the day off tomorrow, I could use some company for a late dinner. I’m going to relieve Spock after this, and I’ll be off at 2300. Probably back in my quarters by 2315.”

She paused, her knife buried in the food, yellow yolk spilling out onto the salmon. “Your place, huh?”

The undercurrent of tension in her voice was suggestive, in that he was suddenly very aware of the space between them, and what could happen if it disappeared. “Why not?” he asked, trying to keep it light. Above all else, he didn’t want her to worry. He wasn’t planning on surprising her with anything, or pushing anything. A change of venue didn’t have to mean much. “I mean, if you want we can stick to your quarters, but I’d have to make it 2330. No big deal.”

She settled a bit, but that sense of tension didn’t quite leave. “Yours is fine.” She looked up at him from under lowered eyelashes, and finished cutting her food. “2315, then. I’ll be there.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit sexual content.

Anne stood outside the door to Kirk’s quarters, brushing nervously at her skirt. If the hallway hadn’t been deserted, she wouldn’t have lingered. Since it was, she allowed herself a few moments to dither. What was he expecting? Actually, more to the point, what was she expecting? She’d spent the last hour in her quarters pacing, trying to figure out what she wanted. She’d had to stop herself from dressing up; it wasn’t a date, or at least she didn’t think so. The two concessions she’d made to looking a little nicer than she had at lunch were the tiny bit of eyeliner she’d put on, and the sleek and complicated chignon she’d put her hair in, deviating from her regular French twist. No big deal. **  
**

Although mainly she’d done her hair because she’d managed to run her fingers through it until it looked like a haystack, wondering what was going to happen.

Was anything even going to happen? He’d acted like it was just a change of scenery behind their regular dinner routine. Maybe it was. But with the way they’d woken up this morning, she couldn’t be sure.

It would have been so much easier if they’d just been alone this morning.

Anne brushed her skirt yet again, settling her shoulders. It was already 2318. She was late. She’d never been late for him that she could recall. Steeling herself, she placed her hand on the palm scanner outside the door.

“C’mon in,” she heard, and the door slid open. Unlike every single other time she’d seen him, the sight of him did not immediately relax her. In fact, it set her stomach fluttering with butterflies. She stepped inside and the door closed behind her, shutting out the rest of the ship. It was just the two of them now.

Kirk looked… amazing, frankly, in a soft black shirt and grey pants that clung lightly to his well-formed legs. She so rarely saw him out of uniform that the contrast made him seem all the more touchable. He’d been adjusting something on the coffee table, and as he stood straight she admired the lines of his body, the graceful angle of his jaw as he looked her over. Maybe she should have changed into something nicer?

Then she realized that he was looking at her as if she was something he’d been waiting for all day, and felt a little better. “Hey. I didn’t get the chance to say it at lunch, but you look great.” His blue eyes flicked over her again. “Really.”

The compliment wasn’t in his words so much as it was in his eyes. Anne stepped forward, forcing her bad leg to co-operate for a bit longer. Pacing had worn her out a little. “Same to you.” She let herself look him over once more just for emphasis-- or so she told herself-- and walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm. “We’re a gorgeous pair,” she said, letting her lips curve up in an ironic little smile. No doubt he did mean that compliment, but objectively speaking, she knew her body was the best thing she had going for her, and even that was bony and unhealthy-looking at the moment. She used the hand on his arm to balance herself as she sat down on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind if I pick a spot and stay there. My leg is being a pain.”

Kirk sat down next to her, leaning back against the cushions. “I thought you looked like you were limping more than at lunch. Weren’t you supposed to stay off it?” She knew he’d noticed the guilty flicker in her eyes before she could hide it. Normally she was better at lying, but it was harder than she thought to lie to him, and in any case she didn't really want to. “Anne,” he said, suspicion in his voice. “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, and then felt herself blush. Putain. “Just… walking.”

“Oh really?” Kirk asked, making no effort to hide his skepticism. “Do you want to try that again?”

Anne sighed, looking away, and internally cursed her nervousness and his perception. “I pace when I’m jumpy, okay?”

He didn’t need it spelled out for him. “If it makes you feel better, we’re still on that last day.”

In a way it did, but it made her feel worse in another, completely different way, and guilty on top of it all. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that this morning was a fluke or something, but…” She stopped, searching for the right words to express how she was feeling.

Kirk didn’t wait for her to find them. “Don’t worry about it. I invited you here because you’re good company. I’m already getting what I want out of this.”

Anne knew better than to try to justify anything, even though she wanted to. Neither of them needed to be thinking about the reasons for her ambivalence. “Thank you,” she said, relaxing a little, even though a part of her was incredibly frustrated with herself. “You’re a really decent person, Jim.” Kicking off her shoes, she curled her legs beneath her.

“I know people who would argue with you on that, and I’m not sure Claudia Hayes isn’t one of them.” His grin faded. “Which reminds me-- Computer, report red alert battle station for Anne Hardesty.”

“Anne Hardesty is assigned to the bridge, auxiliary functions.”

Confused, Anne frowned. “I hope you’re not expecting me to be useful there. I barely have my own responsibilities in Engineering covered and those are the simplest things they can assign.”

“It was Spock’s idea, actually. His point was that you’d be just as safe on the bridge as you would be anywhere else, and if you remembered something relevant during a battle you wouldn’t have to depend on a description of what was going on, or communications that might be cut.” Kirk looked her over. “Basically you’d be doing the same thing as you would be in Engineering. Keep out of the way, let me or someone else know if you see something wrong. Also, this way I get to yell at you if you pick up a weapon.”

Offended, Anne said, “I helped. I disabled one of the mercenaries.”

Sighing, Kirk said, “Okay, I’m going to be the Captain for a minute here. You are under no circumstances allowed to engage in combat unless I personally give you permission. You’re not trained, and I’m responsible for you and any crew member you might hurt. Putting you in a firefight situation would be unacceptable on both our parts.” The authority lessened, and his voice went back to a conversational tone. “And yes, you did help, and I really appreciate that, which is why I didn’t yell at you for it the first time around. But you shouldn’t have had to. The last thing I want, both as Captain and just as me, is for you to get an arm burned off or get vaporized or any number of other things I’ve seen happen.”

Watching him narrowly, trying not to let him think he was in the clear yet, Anne said, “I liked you better when you didn’t think you were my boss.”

Kirk snickered. “Yeah, but being able to boss you around makes it an objective fact that I’m tougher than that Klingon you tied up.” The comparison surprised a laugh out of Anne, and he watched her humor with enjoyment. “So, do you forgive me for acting like the Captain when we’re alone?” he asked when her laughter had faded.

Anne leaned toward him, briefly resting her head on his shoulder, her smile still lingering on her lips. “As long as you forgive me for not taking orders well.”

“You’re not Starfleet. There’s nothing to forgive you for.” Kirk grinned down at her. “Anyway, I’m starved. Why don’t I grab us something to eat?”

“Sure,” Anne said, uncurling her legs from under her so she could get up to go to the dining table.

She didn’t get very far before his hand landed on her shoulder. “Whoa there. You stay off that leg. We can eat on the couch.”

“I can make it across the room,” Anne protested.

“Apparently you did that a few times already, and look at you now.” Kirk gently shoved her back against the couch cushions. “Relax. I’ll get it.”

He was up and at the food synthesizer before Anne had decided whether to listen to him or not. The order about weapons didn’t sit well with her. He’d never even asked if she could shoot, which she could, or at least she used to be able to… with her reproduction Colt revolver... but he was probably right about her lack of Starfleet training being a potential problem. And she couldn’t deny that it mollified her a bit that part of his reasoning was his personal feelings. She wasn’t about to bend over backwards to follow orders, though. If there was a good reason, she knew she would disobey.

When Kirk came back, he had two steaming bowls in his hands, chopsticks poking up above the brims. Setting them down on the table, he said, “Let me get the beer,” and walked to one of the cabinets.

Anne leaned forward and peeked at the soup. It looked like pho. Had she told him how much she liked pho? She grinned. Apparently they were still continuing the theme of a different kind of cuisine every meal. She wasn’t sure when that had gotten to be an unspoken rule, but it had.

Kirk came back and popped open the beer bottles, tossing the bottlecaps on the far side of the table, out of reach of both of them. Handing one off to her, he sat down beside her, and this time he was close enough that she could lean on him. Anne pulled her feet back under her and sipped her beer. “Hmm. That’s really good.” It was actually pretty excellent, with a sour tang and fruity undertones. She wasn’t really surprised that he had good taste in beer, although she didn’t remember the beer from a few nights ago being anything remarkable.

“Scotty lucked into a few cases of it back on Rigel IV. Some trader was clearing out his stock. I don’t break mine out too often, but apparently it goes bad if you keep it too long.” Kirk shrugged. “Who knew?”

“Well, thank you for sharing it with me. I like sour beers.” She looked at the label on the bottle. “I wonder if I could find it again. It reminds me of a beer I used to love back on Earth, a watermelon sour that I used to drink by the case. I even bought my own keg of it once.”

“You’d better watch this one, it’s stronger than it tastes,” Kirk said. “Scotty and I figured that out the hard way. Trying to get back to my quarters that night without looking drunk was a bit rough.” He laughed at the memory and grabbed his soup. “I’m fairly sure no one noticed. Fairly. But the girl I was supposed to meet that night was really upset about it.”

Anne snickered. “Yeah… I’ve had that happen once or twice. Get frustrated with a scene, have a drink, get more frustrated, have another… next thing I know it’s noon and I’ve got eighteen messages from whoever telling me he’s angry with me, and a nineteenth one saying he doesn’t want to see me anymore. Whatever. If I didn’t like him enough to get drunk with him instead of on my own, he wasn’t going to last much longer anyway.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Kirk said, “All right, I’m going to break my own rules here, but I think you get it. What’s the worst breakup you ever had?”

Surprised, Anne looked up at him, setting her beer on the table. She didn’t do the ex talk thing either, but… but it was Jim. And it was safer than her recent history. “What do you mean, worst? What kind of worst?” She picked up her bowl and fished some noodles out of the broth.

“Good point. Any kind of worst, I guess. Need me to start off?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

“I have lots of worsts,” Anne said ruefully. “Okay, hmm… Funny worst. Or at least funny bad, there’s a couple. This guy, I don’t remember his name now, got his mother to call me after I told him to get lost. She was pretty good at arguing his case, but something about having his mother, whom I’d never met, call me up to tell me I should rethink dumping her son just didn’t work for me.”

Chuckling, Kirk shook his head. “Wow. That’s pretty bad, yeah.” He thought for a moment, and then said, “I think the worst funny one I have was when I said she needed to leave and she pretended not to speak English anymore. And I mean literally, she was bilingual and she kept talking to me in Cantonese after that as if she’d just suddenly forgotten every word of English. I eventually had to tell her if she didn’t get out of my room I was calling security. Apparently that’s the same in Cantonese as it is in English.”

“Oh wow,” Anne laughed. “That’s really bad. What did she even think was going to happen there?”

“No idea.” Kirk looked her over. “Let’s get it out of the way-- scary worst.”

“Oooh.” Anne poked at her soup, thinking. “Not as many of those, but… a couple. One guy waved a knife at me after I told him to get out. I had no idea he’d had it. I ended up having to hit him with a chair. He dropped the knife and ran, and I gave it to the police. I’m not sure if they ever found him, they never contacted me about it.”

She could feel him tensing, a hint of that stubbornly protective look in his eyes. “Well, if you ever see him, let me know and I’ll break all his fingers.” He looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Scary. Hmm. Probably the time she turned out to be trying to drug me into staying with her. It’s not like that was going to happen, of course, because I was about to ship out, but I thought for a while I was losing my mind. And the detox was terrible.”

The amount of heat in Anne’s voice surprised both of them. “So what you’re saying is that fighting ban is lifted if I see her.”

With a little grin, Kirk said, “Settle down there, tiger. She’s been through rehabilitation.”

“Sorry, but that’s just wrong,” Anne huffed. “Okay, how about another funny one?”

“Go for it,” he said.

Conversation drifted from worst breakups to worst exes, to worst one night stands, to just worst bedroom encounters and attempted seductions. Anne was glad they only touched lightly on the sad or frightening anecdotes and stuck mostly to the funny ones; besides being more comfortable, it was also more fun. His description of the time he’d gone home with someone on shore leave only to find out that she had rows upon rows of dolls all staring at her bed had Anne in tears, especially when he described how a carelessly placed foot in the middle of things had knocked over a bunch of them and they’d started to make mechanical crying noises and call for mama. He was equally tickled by her description of the guy who had tried to romance her apparently using Cyrano de Bergerac as a guide; the guy had enlisted a friend of his to listen in and tell him what to say using a hidden communicator, including snatches of poetry so vile that Anne could still remember them.

By that time, the food was long finished, and four empty bottles and one unopened one were sitting on the table. “He really said your hair was as brown as a river trout? What’s that even supposed to mean?” Kirk laughed, lifting his arm from around her shoulders to take another sip of the beer they were sharing.

“Have you ever seen a river trout? They’re _green_ ,” Anne said, setting herself off into giggles again. “Green with _spots_.”

Attempting to be reasonable, Kirk said, “Maybe they just had really terrible rivers where he came from. Maybe his trout all turned brown from pollution or something.”

“Oh, great. Thanks for that, now I’m thinking he had in mind fish with three eyes and vestigial wings or something, that’s just great. ‘Your hair is the brown of the terribly deformed fish I caught in the toxic waste pool outside my house, your eyes are the grey of the ashes that blow around when the pet crematorium is running, please fuck me or I’ll get my friend to think of nasty things for me to call you.’”

Kirk lost it then, and so did Anne, clinging to him with her face buried in his chest while their hilarity carried them away. Tears of laughter from before had already soaked through his shirt, and their reappearance didn’t help anything in that department. It took what seemed like ages for them both to calm down. When they did, Kirk had to wipe his eyes. “Goddamn. That guy had some pretty severe issues with his approach.”

Anne sighed, her head still resting on his chest. “Maybe I should change my hair back,” she said.

“If you want,” Kirk said noncommittally. “I think the silver looks good, but if you don’t, change it.”

Lifting her head, Anne looked him in the eyes, curious. Silver, not grey. Words were important. “You don’t think it makes me look like I’ve been sick?”

He shook his head, reaching up to stroke a dangling lock that had escaped her chignon. “I like it. It looks classy.”

Snagging the beer from his hand, Anne bought herself time to get over being flustered with a long swallow. Classy, huh? An odd choice of word to use to describe her. She was used to descriptors like striking or sexy, things she had to work to achieve with her features working against her. She'd never tried for classy. Holding the beer up for him to grab, she said, “I guess it can stay this way for a while. It’s not like I have to look at it.”

Taking the beer back from her, Kirk said, “Look up at me for a sec?” When she did, he glanced from her eyes to her hair, and then back to her eyes, his expression soft and admiring. “They match,” he said, stroking that lock again with his free hand. Anne felt butterflies in her stomach. “You keep it pinned back all the time, though. Can I take it down?”

It took a moment for Anne to get over being flustered, and another to get over the aversion she had to people touching her hair. It was Jim. He wouldn’t hurt her. “If you want,” she said. Her skin suddenly ached to be touched, and she felt more than a little disappointed that he’d said nothing would happen.

Instead of switching the beer to his other hand, Kirk just reached around so that he was almost embracing her. His fingers trailed up the back of her neck, giving her a shivery feeling in the pit of her stomach, and making it a little hard to catch her breath. Left-handed, he pulled one of the pins from her hair, then another, and another, until the whole thing came tumbling down around her shoulders. Dropping the pins on the table, he looked her over for a moment, a smile playing on his lips, then reached up once more, his fingers sliding up the back of her neck to plunge into her hair, rubbing at her scalp as if he knew exactly how the mass of hair pulled as it hung. Anne let her eyes slide closed, a little purr of pleasure escaping her, the aversion overtaken. His fingers worked away the tension, leaving her limp with relaxation.

It wasn’t until he’d stopped that she opened her eyes, looking up to see him watching her with such intent desire that her heart suddenly sped up, leaving her a little dizzy. She barely had time to ask herself what he was planning before she felt his hand slip to her jaw and she knew. At the moment, with her heart pounding and her fears outdistanced, Anne found it hard to feel anything but eagerness, and desire of her own.

Kirk gave her time to move. He gave her plenty of room to withdraw, none of his movements fast enough to take her by surprise and none of them firm enough that she couldn’t easily break free if she wanted. That was more than enough to make up her mind. Without saying so, he’d left it up to her; she melted against him, her softly parted lips brushing against his.

Unlike the first time they’d kissed, driven by blind emotion, this kiss started delicately, just a play of lips and breath, feathery touches that made Anne long for more. The fluttering in the pit of her stomach became an ache that spread through her, her skin craving his touch, all of her being focussed on the taste of him and the way that kiss kept slowly dropping further away from delicacy. Anne felt her hands creeping up his chest, her body fitting to his. That sense of _rightness_ she’d had the first time they’d kissed was back; it was as if her body had known all along that this was the only possible choice.

For his part, Kirk seemed to want to take his time learning her, to be thorough. Teeth caught gently at her lips, his tongue flirting with hers, each movement languid and sensual. His arm slid around her waist, his other hand stroking from her jaw down her throat, tracing her collarbones through the material of the dress. 

The reminder of why she only wore high-necked dresses brought Anne suddenly out of the kiss, and she pulled back. Looking away before she could see his expression, she said, “You remember I’m scarred, right? I just… I don’t want you to be surprised.”

Instead of irritation, or impatience, or even tolerance, she heard him laugh and had to glance over at him. “Getting a bit ahead of things, aren’t you?” he asked, a gentle tease. “Here I was worried I was moving too fast.”

It was exactly the right thing to defuse her worry. As he took the half-finished beer and set it on the table, Anne felt herself relax again, a smile creeping back to her lips. She placed a brief kiss on his, and then said, “No. Not at all.”

“Good. Because if it was left up to me, we’d already be in the bedroom.” His self-deprecating look tempered his laugh.

The thought of it sent a bolt of arousal and a weak flutter of uncertainty through Anne. Digging her fingernails lightly into his chest, she pushed the uncertainty away and asked, “Why not?” As he frowned, concerned, she added, “No promises. But we might as well relax while we enjoy ourselves.” That, and there was something very attractive about the idea of being in his arms, surrounded by the scent of his sheets, her head resting on his pillow.

“As long as you promise me that you’ll let me know if you have even the slightest doubt about anything we do,” Kirk said, fixing her with a serious look until she nodded. Then his expression relaxed back into the hunger she’d seen before, his crooked grin doing nothing to diminish it. “All right. It’s not like I haven’t been thinking about what I'd do if you were there with me.” He paused a moment, his expression turning a bit sheepish. “A lot,” he admitted.

Another shock of lust ran through Anne, propelling her forward, her hand fisting in his shirt to bring him in for another kiss. This one was not so brief, nor was it as gentle-- by the end of it, she could feel her heart pounding in her wrists, her breath coming in soft gasps. She wondered briefly if she’d even be able to stand like this, and then tore herself away from him with a frustrated whimper. “Come on,” she said, pushing herself up from the couch.

He stood, his eyes flame blue with desire, and led her into the bedroom. Inside, it was a sterile dim grey, but Anne could see touches of Kirk here and there. His leather jacket slung over the back of one of the chairs. A pair of boots, carelessly kicked off, lying in a corner. An empty mug sitting on the table. Three or four different padds lay scattered around the room, and with a little burst of pride, she noticed that the one lying on the bed was one of her books. The first time she’d been in his room, it had been as neat as a pin. It was nice to see a little more humanity in it.

Kirk ordered the lights down low, and just as he turned to her, Anne’s bad leg chose to buckle. His arms were immediately around her, steadying her, although her balance was good enough that she hadn’t been in danger of falling. Grinning in the face of his concern, Anne pushed away and edged back onto the bed, moving into the middle, letting her dress ride up as she did so. “Come here,” she murmured, her voice throaty, suggestive.

Instead of blindly chasing, as so many other men had done before, Kirk settled himself on the bed beside her, lying on his back and looking up at her. “Close enough?” he teased.

There was something incredibly endearing about the way his eagerness and teasing never completely hid how delicately he was treating her, how he was making very sure she was on board with whatever he did. Maybe it was the faint air of awkwardness, less than a hint, really, that showed how unused he was to having to check himself to this degree. Maybe it was the way his eyes never left her. Whatever it was, Anne found herself leaning over him, her hair falling around his face in a silver veil, eyes sliding closed as she moved in to kiss him again. “Not yet,” she whispered against his mouth.

What seemed like several eternities later, Anne’s mouth felt lush and full, her brain pleasure-drugged and hazy. Stopping herself from kissing him long enough that she could tug his shirt over his head felt like torture; as she crumpled it in her hand, preparing to throw it aside, she felt the damp spot her tears had left on it. Her laughter against his mouth prompted him to ask, between kisses, ”What?”

“Do you have a thing for women who cry on you, Jim?” Anne teased, punctuating her words with little bites and licks. 

“Just with you,” he growled, tugging her down on top of him.

She went willingly, running her fingers over his chest, feeling the light sprinkle of hair, the smoothness of the skin along his collarbone and shoulder. A set of faint ridges marred one shoulder: scars. Anne traced them with her fingertips, her mouth locked to his. There was something so unfair about not being able to feel his skin on hers. Abruptly deciding that she would not settle for the unfairness, she pulled away from him and knelt up. He’d have to see sooner or later anyway. Grasping the hem of her skirt, she yanked her dress up and off in one fluid motion, dropping it on Kirk’s face before he could get a good look at her. It was something she remembered from before-- surprising her lover by blocking his view, giving her a second to fix her hair and pose how she wanted to be seen as he threw it off.

This time there was no posing. She ran a hand through her hair and sat on her heels, intending to give Jim a glimpse in order to get used to the idea before he had to face her scars head-on. As he tossed her dress aside, she prepared to settle back down on him as soon as she saw that he’d comprehended what he’d seen.

His eyes flickered, as if the sight of her stirred some warring impulses in him, but when she went to lay herself down on him to spare him the view, he stopped her. Instead of pulling her to him, he guided her down beside him as he sat up, leaning over her. Watching her closely. he slowly lowered those full lips of his to the jagged red hook above her right breast.

Anne felt her breathing catch, and then pick up even further. Gentleness was something that had been in short supply. He could not have picked a better way to differentiate himself from the ones before. Lifting a hand, Anne stroked his cheek, feeling the faint rasp of incoming stubble, and smiled.

Taking this for the assent it was, Kirk began to tenderly explore every bit of her exposed skin, kissing along the top of her Starfleet-issue brassiere, stroking down her sunken belly, letting his fingers pass over the raised keloids that lined her body. They’d been meant to be decorative in part, but here and there where she’d struggled there were breaks in the curving design. The feel of his hands on her was as alien as it was welcome, and though she couldn’t help the involuntary tensing of her muscles, the flutter of fear that made her heart bolt like a deer away from a wolf, she breathed deeply, watching him stroke and taste her skin until she felt the tension starting to release.

She wasn’t sure how long it was before she was starting to writhe gently. His hands and lips had been over her more than once, his eyes becoming less watchful and more appreciative as her tension fled. Anne felt light-headed, as if the dissipation of her fear had lifted a literal weight from her mind. As his bottom lip brushed the waistband of her panties, Anne ran her fingers through his hair, moaning softly. 

They both froze as they realized the implied potential there. Jim’s eyes darted to hers, asking silently if this was too far. Another shiver of fear raced through her, but it was weak and fleeting. She had no bad memories of this. Why would anyone have bothered? She ran her fingers through his hair again and smiled.

No further discussion was needed. His breath filtered through her panties, enticingly warm. Instead of pulling them aside, he began to kiss her through them, letting her decide whether to part her legs, though once she had, he settled eagerly between them. Anne let herself drift on the tides of his breath, her fingers moving restlessly in his hair, marveling absently at the skill he had to have to be able to get such a vehement reaction from her without even budging the edge of her panties. His soft groan of pleasure as he tasted her seemed to spread through the cloth, the vibrations reaching further than if she’d been nude, and the fabric had enough give and slickness that it felt as good as without, though it took a little more work.

Shifting her knees over his shoulders, he made no secret of how much he enjoyed that work, his eyes flicking up to glance at her face and body, her growing pleasure feeding the hungry satisfaction that she saw there. Eventually her hips were moving with him, and soon after that she was making soft plaintive noises that almost surprised her with their intensity. She hadn’t heard herself like that for a long time. As those swells of pleasure began to grow, she heard her voice become more ragged, more pleading, her breath coming in short gasps and her toes curling. Even without being skin to skin, it was electric, currents of pleasure running up her spine, arching her back and making her shudder.

The orgasm that hit her was just as clean and sweet and powerful as it had promised to be, a plunge back into a place where sensuality was something to be shared and enjoyed. Anne welcomed it, welcomed every instant of the bliss racing through her, the gratitude as strong a sensation as the orgasm itself. As she drifted back down from it, still feeling the fading pulse of it, she dimly registered that Jim was almost surprised by his success.

Her lips turned up in a languid smile, and she ran her fingers along his jaw. “Come here,” she murmured, and her voice sounded thick and lust-blurred.

Wordlessly, he bestowed one last kiss on the soaking fabric covering her mound, and then pushed himself up, moving over her. His lips caught hers, and she tasted herself on him, purring her appreciation. One of her arms slid around his neck, the other hand working its way between them, pulling at the fastenings of his pants. Catching her fingers, he held them still, pulling away to murmur, “Are you sure?”

“I want to,” she said, and bit his lower lip. He acquiesced with a groan, letting go of her fingers, and she deftly undid his pants. Some things you never forgot. Slipping her hand inside, she found him already hard, his Starfleet-issue boxer briefs stretching taut with the pressure. A formerly familiar sense of smugness made her purr softly against his mouth. After a quick but thorough caress, Anne hooked a toe into the waistband of his pants and briefs, easing them down so he could kick them off. As he did, her hand sought him out, cupping the heat and hardness of him and making him groan again.

Now this, she knew, she hadn’t lost the knack of. His cock felt good in her hand, pleasantly sized and thick enough to make her wonder about pushing her comfort level further. The bolt of fear decided her against it; she satisfied herself with stroking him, listening to the little gasps and catches in his breath and his small growls of pleasure to guide her as to what he liked. Getting the angle just right so that one of her knuckles was grinding against her clit was a little trickier, but he quickly caught on to why she was moaning, his hips pressing down further, making it easier for her.

At some point as things became more frantic, Anne found herself sliding her hand into her panties to collect her juices, slicking them over him so that they could move a little more freely. She could clearly feel his racing pulse beating in his cock, his body starting to tense and his breathing getting ragged as hers did, their kisses becoming less defined and more just a collection of gasps and moans tangled through with biting and sucking. Before long, she felt his breath hitching and his cock starting to pulse, then felt heat pooling between them as he shuddered and came. Almost to the edge herself, she rode it out with him, stroking gently until he caught his breath, then plunged a finger inside herself and ground the heel of her palm against her clit, muffling her soft cry against his shoulder. The resulting explosion wasn’t as strong as before, but the closeness made it just as intense in its own way; when she came out of it, she found her nails digging into his shoulder.

It took quite some time for them to catch their breath, Jim moving off her and settling her against him the way they’d woken up that morning, with her head tucked under his chin and her lips brushing against him. Anne sighed, kissing him gently, and after a long while, she murmured, “I feel… a little cleaner.” It was true. While they hadn’t approached any territory that had too many bad memories, she felt as if some little corner of her soul had been scrubbed of the stains left by others.

Jim laughed, a note of genuine happiness in his voice. “That’s funny. I feel sticky.” Anne wriggled her hips, pulling her finger out of herself, and then smacked him on the side with her wet hand. “Hey!” he said, pretending offense.

“Hey what?” Anne asked, a laugh in her voice.

“Hey, let’s go have a shower before one of us has to sleep in a wet spot,” he answered.

“Mmm. Good plan.” Anne pushed herself up and they sleepily moved to the edge of the bed. “It would be you, in case you were wondering. If you told me to sleep in the wet spot, I’d kick you out.”

“These are _my_ quarters,” Kirk laughed.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I told someone to get out of his own room,” Anne yawned, then stood up from the bed.

Relying on her bad leg was a mistake; it buckled, and Anne suddenly found herself wide awake, clinging to the arm Kirk had thrown around her waist. “You all right?” he asked, concerned.

Not sure, Anne held onto him while she tested her leg. It tried to buckle again when she put weight on it. “It doesn’t hurt too badly, but…” Anne made a noise of disgusted amusement. “I guess tensing it didn’t help it any. Mind if I hang on to you?”

“Sure,” Kirk said. “If it’s not better in the morning, we’ll get Bones to come fix it up again.”

Anne’s mouth twisted wryly, and she let Kirk support her to the little washroom off the bedroom. “Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked. “I had the impression he wasn’t too pleased with me.”

Kirk stayed silent, turning on the water and adjusting the temperature. When she stuck her hand in and nodded, he waited until she’d skinned out of her brassiere and panties, then helped her into the shower where there was a rail she could hold onto. “He’s not happy with me, mostly,” Kirk said after he had ducked his head under the water, skimming back his hair. The slicked hair made his already high forehead even higher, and made him look a little older. “I’m not saying he’s fine with you, but mostly it’s that he doesn’t think I should have gotten involved with you beyond getting whatever information we can get from you, and he isn’t happy that I’ve been… more involved than I usually tend to be.”

What was surprising about it was that he was being honest. She didn’t think he was the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but she hadn’t exactly been trying to hide anything. Maybe he just felt she deserved the same honesty? Anne began to soap her hands, recognizing the clean scent of it from his skin. “Is there anything I can do to mend fences?” she asked as she washed. “I don’t mind just going down to see him tomorrow--”

“What, are you kidding? You think I want to let you go after tonight?” At her look of mild alarm, he added, “Even if we’re not doing anything but sitting on the couch throwing popcorn at a movie, I’d rather just relax with you. I mean, unless you had other plans. Besides, if your leg is that bad, you really shouldn’t be going anywhere. He can come to us.”

Anne shook her wet hair out of her eyes. “Turn around. I’ll get your back.” Looking quizzically at her, he turned, and Anne lathered up his back, watching with interest as bubbles ran down his ass. It really was pretty fantastic, nicely rounded and muscled, as if he spent a good chunk of his free time at the gym or in self-defense classes. Afterward she started to scrub his back, and he sighed in pleasure. “I mean it, though. I don’t want to cause problems for you.” She smirked. “Look at me, I’m enough of a problem as it is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kirk asked over his shoulder.

Anne sighed, dissatisfied, and ran her hands over his back, clearing away the soap. “I just wish you didn’t have to go so far out of your way for me,” she murmured. “I wish I wasn’t so damn fragile. It’s frustrating.”

“Your turn,” he said as he lathered up his hands. Anne cleared her hair out of the way and let him soap her, resting her forehead against the wall of the shower. “I’m not saying I’d be happy to go out of my way forever, but I don’t mind it for now,” he said. “I like seeing you getting more confident and happier. I like knowing I’ve helped.” She heard him laugh, and then curved her back toward him as he began to scrub. “You’re being pretty hard on yourself. I guess you didn’t get to where you are by going easy on yourself, and I can respect that, but it’s not good to push yourself so hard that you don’t know how not to.”

Anne snorted. “Says the youngest Captain in Starfleet, who just happens to have the flagship.”

“Then that means I know what I’m talking about, doesn’t it?” Kirk asked, rinsing her off. Instead of letting her think about that, he teased, “Anyway, you’ve got me curious. Do you always say goodbye to your lovers by telling them to get out? I just want to know so I’m prepared when it happens.”

Laughing, Anne looked over her shoulder at him. “No, I didn’t have any plans tomorrow. Yes, I’d like to stick around.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kirk said, flashing her a grin. After quickly rinsing off again, he stepped out, slinging a towel around his waist and holding one out for her. 

Anne dried herself off and then wrapped the towel around her hair, piling it on top of her head. There was no point in grabbing another; she just reached out, bracing herself on his arm so that she could make it to the bed, pretending not to notice that he was watching her body with more interest than not. Now that he’d seen the scars, she didn’t really have anything else to hide, and she was starting to like the shape of her body better since getting more access to food.

Once he had her seated on the edge of the bed, Kirk looked down at her and gently unwrapped the towel from her hair, tossing it on the floor. As he spoke, Anne twisted it into a quick braid. “I do want you to know that I didn’t plan this,” Kirk said. “If I just wanted sex, there are other people on the ship I could get it from. I took the chance when it seemed right, but that wasn’t what I set out to do.”

Anne yanked back the covers and slid between them, patting the bed beside her. “I’m pretty sure if I felt like you’d _planned_ to have sex with me, I would have ended up running. I’m still not sure I won’t at some point, although that’s not your fault. We did luck out in that nothing we did was especially, uh, reminiscent.”

Kirk nodded, getting in and flipping the covers over them, then ordering the lights off. It was eerily comfortable, settling in beside him. Then again, they’d slept together twice already; it was sort of getting to be a habit. “All that's up to you. I decided that after the first time we kissed. I'll gladly take whatever I can get, but you say stop and we stop. No questions.”

God, he was perfect. Anne threw an arm over him, nestling her head under his chin, feeling warm and happy and a little awed by how well this had all turned out. “If I tell you to stop, it’ll be because I have to, not because I want to,” she said drowsily, then kissed his throat, stretching against him. There was a soft thump from the end of the bed. “What was that?” she asked, her eyes opening.

“Your book,” Kirk answered sleepily. “S’fine. Get it in the morning.”

* * *

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/168926423041/blindsided)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually post something that doesn't fit into the main story on Mondays on my tumblr, and Monday is Christmas so I decided I'd do something special. [Enjoy!](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/168926423041/blindsided)


	25. Chapter 25

Kirk woke to the whistle of the ship’s communications. “Captain, incoming transmission from Yorktown Base Ops, requesting you personally,” Lieutenant Hawkins said when he acknowledged. **  
**

“I’ll take it at my desk, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. Ordering the lights up enough that he could see, he grabbed his pants and shirt from the floor, skinning into them. Glancing over at Anne, he saw that she appeared to still be asleep; he left the bedroom, wondering what the issue could be. Personal communiques weren’t common from Ops; they usually just conveyed orders and requests to the bridge crew.

“Kirk here,” he said, running a hand through his hair and spinning the desktop viewscreen around to face him.

Carol Marcus’s blond bob and pretty face showed up on the viewscreen. “Jim! Oh, I apologize, did I wake you?”

Kirk shook his head, grinning sheepishly. “It’s always good to see you, Carol. What’s up?” He glanced at the time in the corner of the screen-- the morning was half gone. Well, he’d always been a sound sleeper after some fun… and not all of that time had been sleep.

“When you come back to Yorktown, you need to see me to make sure the Enterprise is scheduled for a torpedo refit, priority one. I’ll be overseeing it. R&D is finished field testing the design I was working on.” Carol’s brilliant smile was infectious, and warranted. He knew how much she’d put into that design. In fact, it was one of the reasons they’d split up. She couldn’t have finished the development process if she’d remained on the Enterprise.

“That’s great, Carol. I’m glad to hear it. I’ll set something up when I get back, although I’m not sure when that’ll be yet.” R&D was a much better venue for her intelligence, he had to admit. He’d enjoyed her company on the ship, but that had been a couple of years ago, and any sting from their breakup was long gone. “Are you stationed at Yorktown now?”

“Yes, I’ll be there for the next three months completing refits. I hear once you’re back from your current mission you’re due for some shore leave.” Carol’s smile became a little more personal. “I’d like to get together, if you’re interested.” If this had been a month ago, he would have accepted in a heartbeat. As it was, he felt like he hesitated just a shade too long; she caught the implication. Her smile lost a little of its brilliance. “Oh. Well, as friends, then.”

From behind him, he heard, “Don’t say no on my account.” Anne’s tone was quietly incredulous.

Kirk didn’t think the viewscreen had picked it up; he saw Carol frown as if she’d heard something but was unable to make it out. “Can I get back to you about that, Carol?” he asked. “There are recent developments I’ve got to work out. In the meantime, yes to getting together as friends. Drinks?”

Carol continued to look a bit puzzled, but didn’t lose her smile. “Of course. Come see me when you get in and we’ll talk. Marcus out.”

Kirk flipped the viewscreen back around and then turned, leaning against his desk. Anne looked gorgeously tousled, the braid falling out of her hair and her lips still pinker than usual with last night’s kisses. She’d wrapped the towel around her body, the red hook of one of the scars peeking up over the edge, above her heart. “You would have stayed in the bedroom if they’d said it was confidential, right?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Oh god, some days he wondered if Spock’s mannerisms were rubbing off.

“Of course,” Anne said serenely. “Don’t change the subject.”

“What subject?” Kirk asked.

“She likes you. You should go and have some fun when you get back to Yorktown.” Anne said, giving him a small smile, and then limped back into the bedroom.

Kirk followed her, watching her drop the towel on the floor. From behind, the ends of the red scars wrapping around her rib cage couldn't distract him from the fantastically pert little ass sitting atop her gorgeous legs. It was smoothly, indescribably grabbable, and the way it swayed just a little as she walked was riveting. Those legs, too, were extremely long for someone short enough that she would have had to stretch to rest her nose in the notch between his collarbones. Anne slid into the bed, looking back over her shoulder at him, half-sitting with her arm bracing her up and the graceful curve of her spine leading down to that ass and those legs. The view was enthralling.

The conversation, however, was potentially problematic. He yanked the shirt over his head, running his hand through his hair again, and kicked off his pants. “Run that by me again, maybe with a bit more explanation this time,” he said, climbing in beside her. She smelled great, something floral clinging to her skin even after the shower last night, and she flowed up against him like water, skin soft against his even with the ridges of those scars.

“I figure you’ll tell me if you don’t want to sleep with me anymore. That’s all I’m really concerned about; I’ve got no interest in preventing you from enjoying yourself.” Her fingers slid up his stomach to his chest, caressing lightly, provocatively. “Does that bother you?” she asked, turning her face up to his.

“It’s… not what I'm used to,” Kirk said. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it; he’d known women who felt that way, but had never looked to them for anything more serious than occasional companionship. Whatever this was seemed more serious. “And reciprocity would only be fair.” He wasn’t sure about that either. Most of the affairs that he’d enjoyed were exclusive, if temporary.

Anne threw a leg over him, idly stroking his shin with the side of her foot. “I really don’t think you need to worry about it,” she said. “Between how little time we have and how unlikely it is that I’ll be in any shape to let anyone else near me without shrieking, there isn’t much chance of me finding a side piece.” She sighed. “I’m just being practical. There’s no need for you to lose out on something that could be good just because I’m around. This is just supposed to be fun.”

Mulling this over, Kirk realized that she hadn’t told him anything about how she actually felt, only what she had decided. “And if we had more time?” he asked, honestly curious.

Her arm wrapped around his chest, and she pressed herself against his side. “I’d understand if you found someone interesting for a night or two, but…” she pushed herself up, looking him in the eyes and laying a kiss on his chest, “I’d want most of your time, and all of your attention.”

Arousal hit him like a punch in the gut, the return to more familiar territory and the flare of possessiveness in her eyes combining to steal his breath. “I think I can guarantee that,” he said, stroking a thumb across one of those high cheekbones. “And reciprocity would be a lot easier on those terms.” He knew they were both selfish enough to believe they should be front and center in anything more than a purely physical relationship.

Her slow smile was like watching morning mist lighten into brilliance. Without waiting for her reply, Kirk coaxed her down into a kiss, one that set his nerve endings aflame with craving. 

He really wasn’t normally a morning person, but some mornings were better than others.

* * *

[](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/169213352161/boundaries)

* * *

After another shower and a quick nap, he rummaged through his closet, looking for something he knew he’d kept. Anne sat on the bed, watching him, the blankets pulled up around her without covering her high, rose-tipped breasts. “I’m not going to get my hopes up,” she said. “I just want to know what you’re looking for.”

Kirk ignored her, catching a glimpse of something stuffed in the very back corner of the top shelf. Rising on his toes, he reflected that at least Anne could enjoy the view while he groped around. It took a moment, but his searching fingers managed to snag the corner of the cloth, and he pulled it down. “I knew I still had it,” he said, and tossed the green and gold bundle over to Anne. The cloth unspooled as it flew, landing in a heap draped over her shoulder.

The chance to see her eyes widen as she realized what she was holding was totally worth not telling her. “A useful!” she cried, her eyes brightening. Holding it up, she admired the stitching and the dappled gold and green, like sunlight through the leaves in a forest.

“All of us that went to the surface of Sivao got them. I thought it might be more comfortable than your dress, if it’s long enough to wrap right.” Kirk crossed over to the bed, seating himself and lifting a corner of the finely-woven cloth. “I remember you saying you used to wear yours.”

Anne grinned, and for the first time Kirk saw the dimple her cheek had only hinted at due to her thinness. The other cheek had none; he found that unutterably adorable. “I did. Are you sure you don’t mind if I wear it?” When Kirk shook his head, Anne slid to the edge of the bed, standing to pull the useful around her.

The little stagger she made to keep her balance decided him. “You might as well get it wrapped up right. I’m going to get Bones up here to take a look at that leg.” He reached over to grab one of the padds on the bedside table and began to tap out a message.

“It’s all right, really. I just have to stop tensing it so hard.” Anne looked mischievously at him and then sobered. “Are you sure you want Dr. McCoy up here, though?”

“Too late. And we already had this conversation anyway.” Kirk tossed the padd back on the table and stood, steadying Anne while she wrapped and tied the useful. He wasn’t quite sure how she’d done it, but she ended up with a perfectly acceptable knee length dress with a tightly wrapped bodice and a divide at one hip for freedom of movement. It was probably just her body that made it look good, which was fine by him; he stood back, admiring her. The dappled green and gold made her cheeks faintly pink and pulled out green undertones in her eyes, making them look like mist over seawater. “Is that how you wore it on Sivao?” he asked.

“Once I was comfortable, yes. I was travelling light, so it was easier just to keep a bunch of usefuls than changes of clothing. And that way I didn’t have to remember where my hammock was.” Her lips twitched as she looked him over, seating herself on the edge of the bed. “Speaking of which, while I like the scenery, you should probably find something to wear before Dr. McCoy gets here.”

“Psh. He’s a doctor, he’s seen it all before.” Despite that, Kirk grabbed one of the black uniform undershirts and a pair of soft black pants. There was no point in straining the friendship any further than this visit would already.

He and Anne were seated on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between them, the holo version of an old movie playing above the table in front of them, arguing about the retouching on the shark in the movie when Bones walked in with his kit bag in hand. “No way,” Kirk was saying. “You can’t teach a shark to act that well. That was definitely a machine.”

“No, that was real footage, I swear. Run it back.” Anne snatched for the control while he held it away.

“God damn it,” Bones said under his breath.

Kirk wasn’t about to apologize. “Hey, Bones. Anne’s having some trouble with her leg. Can you check it out?” He thumbed a button on the control and the movie stopped.

“Hello, Dr. McCoy. I’m sorry to drag you up here for this,” Anne said demurely. “It won’t hold my weight for very long. I’m afraid I strained it.”

“What in god’s name were you doing?” Bones asked, and then immediately said, “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Whatever it was, stop it.” He knelt down beside Anne, reaching for the makeshift skirt. “Do you mind?”

Anne twitched the divide open, revealing the incision. It had bruised, visibly worse than it had been before. Bones pulled his scanner out, looking at the muscle beneath. “Half of those microsutures have come out. You were told to stay off it, Crewman. If you can’t take medical advice, I’ll order you to the med bay until your next shift.” He glared at Kirk, snapping the scanner shut. “And _you_ shouldn’t be encouraging her. Couple of goddamn fools. Confinement to the med bay would serve you both right.” He pulled a hypospray out of his kit and brushed Anne’s skirt aside higher up, shooting her up near the hollow of her hip, and giving Kirk a dirty look when he realized the lack of a certain specific garment. Sighing, he loaded the hypo up with something else. “This will keep the muscle from tensing at all for the next twelve hours. If you somehow manage to muck it up anyway, I’ll give you a goddamn commendation before I get you in five point restraints.”

“I apologize, Doctor. It wasn’t my intention to create more work for you.” As Kirk watched, he saw some tightness lift from around Anne’s eyes, and scolded himself for not realizing she had been in pain. Then again, he’d figured out that she was a better liar than those expressive eyes made it seem.

“The road to hell, Crewman,” Bones muttered. Restricting the blood vessels, he used the protoplaser to open the wound without creating fresh trauma and began to redo the microsutures. It didn’t take long; Bones was done within a few minutes, and Anne didn’t feel a thing. Using the protoplaser to seal the wound back up, Bones huffed his disapproval. “Now. No running. No walking. No standing. No alcohol. No-- anything. Stay down, drink plenty of fluids, and if you can’t walk tomorrow, I will personally confine you to the med bay until you heal. Hear me?”

“I hear you, Doctor,” Anne said, and Kirk recognized the rebellious glint in her eyes, although he saw her trying to damp it back.

“And you.” McCoy rounded on Kirk, snapping his case shut and standing.

He’d been expecting it, so Kirk handed Anne the controls for the movie. “Back in a sec,” Kirk said, standing up. Instead of walking out into the hall, as Kirk had expected, Bones headed toward the bedroom. Kirk raised his eyebrows at Anne over his shoulder and followed. There was no point in trying to head him off.

When the door closed behind them, Bones made a disgusted noise, then pointedly looked at the shambles of the bed, Anne’s dress and Kirk’s clothes on the floor, and the brassiere that had been carelessly kicked out of the bathroom at some point. “I don’t want to hear it,” Bones said when Kirk opened his mouth, shaking his head. “I’m tired of trying to talk sense into you, so I’m just going to say this one last time. This is a bad idea, Jim. This is going to get one or both of you in real trouble. I’m not as worried about you; if you need to learn your lesson, I’m pretty sure you’ll at least survive it.”

Meaning Anne might not. Kirk scowled. “I get it. And I’m still listening to you, even if I disagree. Anne and I both know it’s over at the end of my shore leave whether we like it or not.”

Bones looked somewhat mollified. “That’s entirely too sensible for you to have figured out on your own. At least one of you is thinking further ahead than the next morning.” He glanced around the room again, and Kirk thought he saw a hint of wistfulness in Bones’ eyes, quickly banished by resentment, not directed at him or Anne, but at someone Kirk knew Bones was remembering. “Just don’t sign anything legal.”

“You don’t need to worry on that score.” Clapping him on the back, Kirk walked him out of the bedroom. “Thanks for coming up, Bones.”

To his surprise, Bones walked over to Anne and plopped down on the couch, reaching over her to grab a couple pieces of popcorn. “Now, what did I tell you to do?”

Anne’s voice was even as she rattled off a list. “Don’t use it, no booze, drink fluids, take my calcium pills, three squares, and don’t let _him_ get any great ideas.” She jerked her chin at Kirk, who frowned, starting to protest.

Bones watched her hard for a moment, then stood up, tossing the popcorn into his mouth. “You got it. But I _will_ throw your ass in an isolation room if you don’t smarten up.” He walked toward the door, adding, “See you tomorrow at 1315 hours.” The door closed behind him before either of them could reply.

“What was that for?” Kirk asked, grinning. He wasn’t really offended by what she’d said; in fact, it reminded him a little of the way Bones talked, which he suspected was why she’d said it.

Anne studied the piece of popcorn she had in her hand, and then threw it at him. It bounced off his chest and rolled somewhere under the other couch. “I hate having to be the mature one, but someone had to pretend for a minute.”

“Why?” Kirk asked, dropping to the couch beside her and grabbing some popcorn. “He wasn’t really going to confine you to the med bay.” Well, probably not. Most likely not.

Anne watched him, something flickering in her eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. “Habit,” she said finally, and then threw another piece of popcorn at him. “I don’t like people knowing I’m childish and untrustworthy.”

It was said with humor, but Kirk could hear undercurrents that he couldn’t quite interpret. That didn’t stop him from identifying with the feeling. “It might be a problem if he knew both of us were that way,” he admitted, tossing a piece of popcorn at her. It bounced off her head, and she mock frowned at him. “But we’ve got the whole rest of the day to be as childish as we want, without anyone telling us to stop. So let’s enjoy it.”

In answer, she snatched a handful of popcorn and threw it at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone can guess what movie they're watching, I'll give you an extra chapter <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: non-explicit sexual activity.

After the all-out war, there was popcorn everywhere-- in his shirt, in her hair, all over the couch and floor, and stuck in all the folds of the useful she was wearing. He had a major advantage in that her leg was basically paralyzed; she couldn’t get away easily or quickly, and eventually had to beg for mercy, laughing the entire time. And then he’d gotten to sit and laugh as she’d squawked and picked through her dress trying to get all of the little shells away from her skin. “Ugh, I’m covered in salt,” she said, picking a piece of popcorn out from between her breasts. “Ugh!” **  
**

“That’ll teach you to start fights you can’t win,” Kirk said smugly.

Pretending to glare at him, she heaved herself up from the couch, balancing with her paralyzed leg. “You just wait until next time,” she said darkly, shaking out the useful. Popcorn rained down onto the floor. “Ugh, it itches!” Appearing to make a sudden decision, she tore at the knot holding the useful closed.

Kirk just sat back, enjoying this unanticipated bonus. The useful was unwound, baring first her breasts, then the rest of her as she teetered on her good leg. He didn’t say a word, just watched, admiring the way her body was put together, the tiny waist and long legs, and the high, perfect breasts. The scars, keloided and red as they were, couldn’t detract from her. If he hadn’t known how they’d been acquired, he might even have thought them decorative, though unusual. Still, it was her body that was beautiful, the rosy-tipped breasts and the little globes of her ass inviting touch, the long legs reminding him of what they felt like wrapped around his hips.

The silence must have given him away, because when his eyes wandered back up to her face, she was watching him with amusement. Kirk put on his most virtuous expression. “Did I miss one of the shells?” she asked.

“I’d have to take a closer look to be sure,” he said matter-of-factly.

Her eyes swept over him, that soft darkness he’d seen before lurking in them, making them seem to have perilous depths. Carefully, she moved over to him, her leg making it a bit awkward but not impossible to slide down onto his lap. There was something incredibly tantalizing about having her straddling him, naked, while he was fully clothed. “Is this close enough?” she asked, her voice a suggestive purr.

“Not yet,” he murmured, resting a hand on her hip and tipping her face to his with the other.

Sex with her was both odd and intoxicating, needing far more patience than he was used to, but rewarding him proportionate to that patience. Her emotions were utterly transparent; he could see every little flicker of trepidation or lust, every hesitation and frustrated urge. The depth of her desire for him was staggering, and offset in almost equal amount by her involuntary bracing, as if she were thirstily drinking water that may or may not have been poisoned. And as long as he didn’t mind being patient, helping her to stop that bracing was easy. All he had to do was be gentle with her until her enjoyment won out.

Add that to her insatiable appetite once it did, and she was a dangerously addictive little thing, somehow all vulnerable need at the same time as voracious want. The first time he’d carefully slid a finger inside her, she’d flinched back, then slammed her hand down on his to keep it there, grinding her hips until she was overcome by what looked like an absolutely explosive orgasm. She was just as ambivalent about his body as she was about hers, shying away one moment, demanding more the next, and sometimes it took every ounce of self-control he had to force himself to stay still and let her have her way without trying to impose his will on her. Other times, they were in such perfect accord that it seemed like a gift.

All this, while she still wavered back and forth on whether she could handle penetrative sex. Kirk could tell she thought of it, even craved it, her eyes and hands lingering on his cock, her pulse fluttering in her throat. She’d let herself get incredibly close to it, pressing slick against him so that just a slightly different turn of her hips might finally see her sinking down on him, but she would never quite make that turn. That was perhaps the hardest bit of self-control he’d ever had to exercise in bed. Still, it wouldn’t have been worth the price, and it wasn’t as if he was unsatisfied. He’d had some amazing lovers, but very rarely had he ever had one that seemed so in love with his body and his reactions once she got over her nervousness.

It did leave him feeling an unaccustomed possessiveness afterward, though. It was as if his hindbrain was convinced that anyone else would hurt her, that only he could safely handle her without undoing any of the progress that she’d made. She didn’t seem to be bothered by that possessive streak; everything she did fed into it, to the point that it would have been uncomfortable if it hadn’t been so satisfying.

As long as it didn’t interfere with his judgment, he would be fine.

Dr. Hayes would probably have a fit if she knew.

The day seemed endless, but eventually he realized that it was starting to get late. They both had to work, and even Anne couldn’t distract him from his Enterprise. He wondered whether he should just let her go when she suggested that she should get to her quarters, but… they had so little time. Kirk grinned, pulling the useful up over her shoulder. “All right, you don’t have to beg. You can stay here tonight.”

She squirmed as if she could somehow get closer to him, blowing a stray bit of popcorn off the seat of the couch. They were snugged together on the couch on their sides, the useful dragged over both of them. Her ass was socked up against his hips, her back against his chest, and her head tucked beneath his chin. “Are you sure you want me here tonight?” she asked, her voice low and serene, her only evident emotion curiosity. He was coming to recognize that as a sign that she was feeling some strong emotion that she didn’t want to acknowledge.

To take a page from Spock’s book-- fascinating. “Anne Madeline Hardesty, if I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t have offered,” he teased.

Her voice warmed. “I’d love to stay. Let me go get some things from my quarters, and I’ll be back.” She pushed herself up from the couch, the useful sliding down her body. Her hair was wild, silver wisps hanging around her face. Anyone who saw her would know what she’d been up to.

“You’re not supposed to be on that leg,” Kirk said. “Tell me what you need and I’ll get it. In the meantime, you can pick up the popcorn.”

She pretended offense, but couldn’t keep it up and started to snicker. “It was worth it. Wasn’t it worth it?” Her eyes were alight with mischievous joy.

“Definitely.” Kirk pushed himself up, glancing around for his pants and shirt. The pants lay on the floor, but he had to get up to find the shirt, which had gotten thrown over the back of the couch at some point. Pulling it over his head, he ran a hand through his hair. He should probably comb it before he left.

Anne beckoned him down. “Here,” she said, taking his chin in her hand once he knelt down, fussing with his hair, her eyes intent and serious. After a while, she looked critically at him and pronounced him done. “It looks fine.” She paused, then kissed him swiftly and sweetly, her smile afterward endearingly crooked. That one dimple was ridiculous. “I’ll need clothes-- underwear, uniform, boots, insignia, all that. Toothbrush. The padd lying on my bed.” Her smile grew even more crooked. “And there’s a vial of perfume in the washroom. I’ll need it, or else I’ll smell like your soap.”

He laughed, taking her hand in his, then looked consideringly at her. “So you do actually wear a uniform? I’ve never seen you in it.”

Looking down, Anne blushed. “Someone told me red washes me out.”

The fact that she’d changed before he’d seen her every single day because she’d wanted to look good for him was sort of adorable. He stood, suppressing a smile. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Squeezing her hand before letting it go, he turned and left the room.

On his way through the halls to her room, he passed Sulu, who paused to talk to him. “I didn’t see you at fencing, Captain,” Sulu said, curious. Kirk sometimes attended the fencing courses, mostly for the footwork. He didn’t care about the sword, but some of the evasions and positioning were good.

“I was a bit preoccupied today. I’ll come next time.” He knew he didn’t sound as obvious as he felt, but it was still disconcerting. When he’d been with Carol, it hadn’t come with this strange reluctance to admit it.

Sulu nodded, but the little grin that appeared on his face told Kirk that he had an idea of the reason. “When we get back to Yorktown, we should definitely get together. Maybe take Demora to the park, then have Ben and Anne make dinner. I’m still surprised by how much Ben likes her. He’s usually so shy.”

“She can definitely get under your skin,” Kirk said, almost ruefully. “We’ll come. Pick a day when we get back and let me know.”

Sulu’s smile widened. “Aye, sir,” he said, Kirk knew it was a joke, but it was serious too-- Sulu never stopped seeing him as the Captain.

Kirk wondered why that even occurred to him as he walked the halls to Anne’s room. Being the Captain was that essential to him that even his friends never saw him as anything else. Why didn’t that apply to Anne? Preoccupied with the question, he picked through her things, taking what she needed and leaving the room. Was that part of the appeal? Was it that he didn’t need the protection and status and elevation of his rank with her?

It probably was, he reflected. Being the Captain was important to him, essential to him, but at the same time it cast a shadow over the rest of him. He didn’t resent it; he preferred it that way. But someone that ignored the rank entirely and just looked at the rest of him was a novelty, and enticing, especially since she approved so much of what she saw.

When he brought the small bundle to her, she’d tossed it aside and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him as if he’d been away for days.

He couldn’t help but respond to her. The intensity, the intimacy of it, that strange and restricted and powerful sexuality, all of it called to him on some basic level that he couldn’t ignore. He held her naked body against him and let himself drown in the kiss.

It was some time later when he noticed that she had tidied the entire room while he’d been gone. The beer bottles that had still been on the table were gone, the popcorn was all cleaned up, and the useful was folded nicely, sitting on the table. “You were supposed to stay off your leg, Anne,” he chided teasingly.

She sighed, resting her head against his chest. “It’s fine. I was being careful.” She dropped a small kiss on his collarbone.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, pressing her against him.

He felt more than heard her laugh. “How about dinner in bed?” she asked, stepping away to lead him to the bedroom, snagging the bundle he’d brought in one hand. “We can do the Paris thing. Baguette, some cheese, some red wine--” She saw his skeptical look and added, “-- or not. Some charcuterie. Pick at it and pretend we’re in a park in le Marais, feeding pigeons.”

Kirk couldn’t help his dismissive laugh as he followed. “You aren’t one of those people who romanticizes Paris, are you? It’s a big dirty city, like every other big city.”

Anne wasn’t offended, but she paused before the bedroom door opened. “You’re missing the soul of it. You should meet me there someday, and I’ll show you what it’s really like. It only looks romantic from the outside. It’s a survivor city.”

“Maybe, someday.” He grinned. “But all right, I’ll get dinner.”

She kissed him again, then limped her way into the bedroom. When he followed her, after getting the food, he saw that she’d tidied the bedroom as well. It was weirdly domestic, and felt a little like the warmth he’d felt in Sulu’s home. Wanting to keep everything as tidy as she’d made it, Kirk left the tray of food on the bed and went to the closet to get rid of the clothes he was wearing.

Inside the closet, he saw her uniform, hanging at the end of the line of his identical uniforms, the red standing out against his gold. Her grey dress hung behind it. Kirk grinned and pulled off his clothes, dropping them in the laundry on top of the brassiere and the panties she’d worn. Again, weirdly domestic… but kind of nice.

When he turned back to Anne, he saw her using the little perfume vial, putting a few drops onto her palms and rubbing them together. Then she ran them through her hair, her expression beautifully content. As he drew near, a sweet floral scent reached him, coaxing him forward. He recognized it from the smell of her hair before, although it had been faint then. She saw his questioning expression when she looked up. “It’s fleur de tiaré,” she said. “It’s a kind of gardenia that grows in Polynesia.” Her pronunciation was suspiciously perfect, even to the guttural ‘r’ that was so hard for non-natives.

It wasn’t the time for that. Settling on the bed beside her, Kirk dropped a kiss on her shoulder and grabbed the food. “That’s definitely going on your list. “Short, mean, and smells fantastic.” He ripped off a chunk of the bread and took a piece of cheese. It was still synthetic and he could tell, but it was fine for now. They’d have time for the real thing. “And interesting, too.” Definitely.

Anne’s smile lit her face. “If you insist,” she said, shaking her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday January 11th's post will be moved to Wednesday January 10th due to medical issues.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: graphic psychological abuse, some violence.

When the alarm chimed the next morning at 0400, Anne sighed and crawled out of bed, still tired. They had gotten some sleep, but not quite enough for her; Kirk had an extra two hours to sleep. She envied him. Forcing herself to move, she quickly showered and put up her hair, then dressed in her uniform. True to Dr. McCoy’s word, her leg felt better and held her weight without complaint. Just before she left the room, she felt compelled to walk back to the bed, looking down at Kirk. **  
**

She leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. He cracked an eye open, looking her over. “I like it,” he said, looking at her uniform.

Anne laughed. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you at 1315.” She kissed him again, a brush against his lips this time, and left the room.

Engineering was quiet at this time of day. First shift wouldn’t be on for another two hours. Anne knew her way around by now and made her rounds, checking antimatter containment and core temperatures. Technically she was early, but she preferred to check the statuses before she started work for the day. As she finished her rounds, she saw Keenser lying atop one of the pipes. “Mr. Keenser,” she said politely. “Mr. Scott told me you would be able to familiarize me with the warp core emergency readouts and functions. Is that acceptable?”

The little oyster-faced alien propped himself up and nodded. Jumping down from the pipe, he led her to one of the consoles and started to demonstrate. It was very basic stuff, since she didn’t have the backgrounding-- she would have to learn everything mechanically and by memorization, and catch up on the theory on her own. They never let her at anything vital, but she did have her own authority to check readings and suggest adjustments, to be approved by a more experienced crew member.

By the time Mr. Scott came in, Anne was hard at work, double checking her regulation equations for the auxiliary core shielding before submitting them. Scott stood by her for a moment, watching, and then said, “Good work, lass. Ye catch on quick.” He paused, then added, a little too casually, “How was yer day off?”

Anne stilled. She didn’t know what to say. Glancing warily up at Scotty from under her lashes, she said, “It was good. I enjoyed myself. I didn’t get much studying done, though.”

“No worries. Ye’re a spare anyway, and Ms. Reynolds will help you out.” Scott reached out to pat her shoulder.

Anne had to brace herself for the touch, but endured it without flinching. She recognized the feeling behind it, and tried to respond to the encouragement rather than the strange touch. “Thank you, Mr. Scott,” she said with a crooked smile.

The rest of the day in Engineering flew by. Anne was absorbed in the workings of the ship, her rudimentary understanding of it growing as she watched and learned and did. The Enterprise had its own personality in a strange way. It felt sort of the way she did when she was talking to someone and peeling away the layers of their defenses to see their inner workings. Many of the equations didn’t make sense to her; she noted them on her padd for later research. The principles behind the equations, however, were clean and elegant, understandable as concepts if not in action.

By the time 1300 rolled around, Anne was in a serene haze of pressure differentials and intensity regulation. The numbers and signs were a struggle for her, but the concepts and theories behind them were making some sense. She barely heard the chime from her padd that told her to head to the med bay. Shaking her head, as if waking up from a dream, she nodded her goodbyes to the co-workers who had helped her, and quickly left Engineering.

She wasn’t nervous about Spock being in her mind anymore. Their first encounter, while dramatic and bloody, had reassured her. His presence in her mind hadn’t felt like an invasion, it had felt like a solace, a soothing pool of logic she could wash herself in. It was a relief from the roiling memories that underlay her every thought.

As she entered the med bay, Dr. Hayes looked up from her preparations. She had laid out her equipment again, including the old-fashioned scalpel. Maybe it was just a precaution. Her rich brown curls were tied back, spilling down in a graceful fall. Anne thought wistfully of the utilitarian pins just holding her grey hair out of the way, and then banished the thought as Dr. Hayes spoke. “Good, you’re here. How are you doing?”

The open-ended question left Anne a lot of room for evasion. “I’m fine. I spent yesterday relaxing.”

Dr. Hayes raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “I see.” Visibly choosing not to pursue the subject, she asked, “Do you think you’re ready for this?”

Anne answered by hopping up on the examination table. “It wasn’t as bad as I had expected. I can handle it.”

Dr. McCoy came out of his office, looking tired. “Well. Hopefully this time there won’t be any blood. How’s the leg?”

“It’s fine, Doctor. I had no trouble with it today. Thank you.” Anne smiled sweetly at him, watching his scowl deepen.

The the med bay doors whooshed open, and Spock came in, followed by Kirk. Anne felt her eyes slide away from Kirk, as if she would betray herself by looking at him. Spock approached her, and Kirk followed, taking up a position at her side. 

Spock nodded to Dr. Hayes and Dr. McCoy, and then turned to Anne. “Are you sufficiently prepared, Ms. Hardesty?” 

She had to clear her throat before answering. Maybe she was a tiny bit nervous. “I am,” she said.

Kirk laid a hand on her shoulder, and she couldn’t help herself. She looked up at him, feeling a small smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. She could see her expression reflected in his, a softness that shouldn’t have been there. “I’ve got your back,” he said.

“I know,” Anne answered, and then lay back, looking to Spock and the two doctors. Dr. Hayes seemed faintly worried, and Dr. McCoy’s face was unreadable. “I’m ready,” she said.

Spock lifted his hand, gently touching her face.

It was like dissolving, the world around her seeming to run like a watercolor painting. It became an indistinct blur, an unimportant background to her thoughts. Spock was there, that cold, precise presence giving her a soothing center in the midst of her burning memories. Again, she felt him rifle through the thoughts in her surface mind, the torn and gaping hole where her writing had been, the flimsy patching she’d put over it, trying not to think of it, trying to believe it was healing on its own. Then the whirl of Engineering, the contentment of trying to understand the flood of new information she was faced with. He barely grazed her memories of the day before with Kirk-- probably realizing that some things should be left as private as possible-- and then the search began.

It seemed to take hours, flicking through memories as quickly as she could, trying not to feel the emotions that were attached. Spock’s presence made it a little easier, but it was still a struggle to stay composed. Finally, they decided on a memory to search, and Anne tried to brace herself for the remembrance.

It was a hallway carved out of rock, supported with steel girders. Anne was walking, behind and to the side of Loche, exactly where he told her to be. Trained her to be. Hit her if she stepped out of line. He was speaking, his voice a dark, velvety growl. “Did you know that if you repeat something often enough, you’ll start to believe it? The brain creates the pathway, and the deeper you wear it, the more it starts to be true. You can't escape your own biology, although many try. In their denial, they lose the most valuable parts of themselves.”

Anne didn’t answer. Answering meant that she had a mind of her own, and Loche didn’t like that.

“Tell me you love me,” he said, not looking back, walking through the rough-hewn hallway with all the lithe, unnerving grace of a stalking animal.

“I love you,” Anne said automatically. She tried to say it convincingly, internally clutching the threads of her hate and her rebellious nature.

They turned, coming to a hall that was all metal, with windows that looked out into space. Beyond it was more stone. Loche never turned to look at her. “Say it again. Make me believe you mean it.”

“I love you,” she protested, worried now. “I do mean it. I love you, Loche.”

His voice sounded annoyed. “You’re not convincing me. Say it again, and do it right.”

Anne took a breath and said, in her most pleading, tender voice, “Please, Loche. I love you. Please, please believe me. I do mean it, I love you.”

The hallway opened out in front of them to a cavernous room. The rusted hulks of old mining machinery sat here and there, newer computer banks looking incongruous against the decay. People moved back and forth between the computer banks, unhurried, making sure the systems were all functioning properly. No one would take notice of her. If anyone looked at her, they’d immediately look away, pretending she wasn’t there.

Loche turned gracefully on his heel and grabbed her by the hair, slamming her into one of the rusting machines. The structure was still solid enough that it hurt to crash into it, and Anne sucked in a deep breath, trying not to show pain. As with a starving wolf attacking its prey, weakness would only spur him to further cruelty.

Loche still had her by the hair, pressing the side of her head against the machine. In front of her eyes, on one of the digging arms, was a little manufacturer’s plaque with writing that she couldn’t read. She looked back at Loche from the corner of her eye, her cheek still shoved against the rusty metal. Even in fury he was charismatic, his eyes sparking with black fire. “Tell me you love me,” he snarled, his square jaw set and his angled brows drawn together in anger. 

“I love you,” Anne gasped, tasting rust particles. “I love you, I do love you.”

Abruptly he let go of her hair, grabbing her by the throat and by her left arm. Anne didn’t struggle. Fighting only made him worse. “What an actress you are,” he said, the words now eerily calm, just like his expression. No one else looked up. None of the other people there even seemed to notice what was happening. “This is your last chance. You say it, and you keep on saying it until I tell you to stop.”

His grip on her throat wasn’t tight enough to stop her from speaking. “Loche, I do love you. I promise you that. I love you. I’d die without you. I love you more than anything else in this universe. I love you, please believe me. I’d never even look at anyone else. You’re all I want. I love you. I’d do anything for you. Anything.” She continued her endearments, almost in a chant, trying her hardest to seem sincere.

She knew better than to stop. Even when he pulled her forward and then slammed her back against the machine, she continued her pleading declarations of love. Even when he stooped and grabbed a rusted pipe that had fallen off the machine, jerking her arm out straight. She kept telling him she loved him the entire time, knowing that he was going to hurt her badly, knowing that if she stopped he would hurt her worse.

The pipe came down, and Anne felt her arm break. She felt immediately nauseated, the pain a sickening feeling that made her knees weak. Still, she continued to speak, her voice hoarse and strained. “Please, Loche, please. I love you, only you. I’ll never love anyone else.”

Loche grabbed her by the arm, digging his fingers into the spot he had hit so hard. White fire eclipsed her vision, her whole body contracting. Anne’s voice rose to a wail. “Please, believe me, please! Don’t do this to me, I love you!” Tears rolled down her cheeks, her breath hitching. “Only you, Loche! I love you, only you!”

Her fervent, ragged cry seemed to please him, or at least damp down his anger. Loche let go of her and she staggered, trying to keep her balance. “Come,” he said, turning. “You’ve made us late. Tarenn will be waiting.”

In the memory, Anne forced herself up to take her place, behind and a little to the side of him, still muttering endearments under her breath. He hadn’t told her to stop.

The cool presence of Spock’s mind reasserted itself, giving Anne some measure of relief from the terror and sickness that had gripped her. Her arm still ached, and her thoughts still wanted to bolt back to that day, relive it, as if compelled by some awful force of Loche’s personality. Spock indicated that he had found a lead in the memory, and that he would be ending the mind meld. Anne agreed with him. Another memory would be too much for one day. This one had been too much. 

When she came out of it this time, it was as if the hazy background suddenly came into focus. There she was, lying on an examination table in the med bay, with three concerned and interested watchers. Kirk was nearest to her, his hand still on her shoulder. Anne sat up and grabbed her arm, trying to reassure herself that it wasn’t still broken, her heart pounding and her body trembling. She didn’t want to remember what he’d done to her. Spock had made it easier, a little-- it was almost bearable. But only almost.

“I have obtained some new information, Captain,” Spock said. “The smuggling ring has a base in an asteroid belt that had been mined by Coridan. It appeared to be at least two asteroids connected by steel walkways, and had been abandoned for some time.”

Dr. Hayes was approaching her, searching her face. In a murmur, she said, “It’s all right, Anne. It’s over.”

In a tiny voice, Anne said, “He made me tell him I loved him while he broke my arm.” Dr. Hayes’ expression tightened, flashes of anger and sympathy warring in her eyes.

Kirk, who had been discussing the methods they would have to use to find Coridani mining locations, abruptly broke off, the hand on her shoulder suddenly tightening, pulling her to lean against him. “You’re all right, Anne,” he said.

Anne was so grateful for his presence that she could have cried. Instead she let her head drop against him, feeling the hand on her shoulder turn into an arm around her, an embrace.

Dr. McCoy handed a hypo to Dr. Hayes, who was keeping her expression carefully blank. “Her vitals are fine, aside from the elevated heart rate and breathing,” he said. “You’ll probably get the best results now.” He didn’t look at Kirk.

Spock picked up the conversation with Kirk again. “Her memories suggest that not only is the base carved into the asteroid, it may also be shielded. The location will be hard to survey without revealing ourselves unless there is a place we can conceal the ship nearby.”

“We’ll worry about that when we find it,” Kirk said. “For now, just get a pattern search going, any asteroid belts mined by Coridan outfits, narrowed to abandoned locations. They won’t have every little floating rock flagged, but at least we might be able to figure out which belt it’s in.”

Dr. Hayes tipped Anne’s head up, pressing the hypo against her neck. “This should take hold in less than five minutes. Tell me when you start to feel warm, and we’ll go somewhere private to discuss what happened.”

Leaning back against one of the examination tables, Dr. McCoy said, “If it wasn’t an intrusion, I’d love to see this method in action. It sounds like a load of bullshit.”

Narrowing her eyes, Dr. Hayes said, “Leonard, if you can’t remember why you brought me on, at least have the decency not to question my methods in front of my patient.”

Anne felt herself relaxing, her trembling starting to still. She wasn’t listening to the discussion between Kirk and Spock; she was just feeling the rumble of his voice in his chest, and letting it comfort her. Dr. Hayes’ irritation ignited a tiny flare of humor. “It’s all right, Dr. Hayes. I’ve got practice ignoring him.”

Dr. McCoy shot her an ironic look, and Dr. Hayes smiled crookedly, the beauty of her mouth making it seem like that was the most perfect way to smile. “That’s not exactly a good thing, but I’ll take it this time.”

The warmth that Dr. Hayes had mentioned began to spread through Anne, a thoughtful stillness coming over her. She suddenly realized that she was very aware of the colors and textures around her, the antiseptic smells of the med bay, the scent of Kirk’s skin. Immediately, she felt calmer, almost good.

“Pupil dilation,” Dr. McCoy said. “You’d better take her in.”

Anne nodded. “I do feel warm.” She slid off the table without removing Kirk’s arm, standing with her side pressed against him.

“I can take a hint,” Kirk said. The arm around her shoulders squeezed. “Come see me afterward, if you’re not too worn out.”

Looking up at him, Anne marveled again at the construction of his face, the strong sweep of his eyebrows, the sharply angled chin and the high forehead. He was… incredibly good looking. And that wasn’t even counting his eyes, the bright flame blue of them, or his lips, full enough to be pleasant… Anne realized she’d hesitated a little too long, caught up in admiration. She laughed quietly. “Yes. Sorry. I’m a bit…” She waved a hand, unable to describe the sensation. She would have to try to write it later.

“I got it,” Kirk said, his smile answering hers.

“I’ve got to go,” Anne said regretfully, standing away from him, still unable to tear her eyes away. “I’ll see you later.”

He stepped back, his smile still lingering on his lips, and said to Spock, “Shall we continue this discussion on the bridge?”

Spock nodded, then looked at Anne. “The information you’ve provided will be very useful to us; I hope you are willing to continue our search tomorrow, as I believe there may be more clues to the location and defenses of the smuggling ring.”

Dr. Hayes tucked the hypo back in her bag, gathering up her tools. “We’ll see what the result is once the session is over.” Looking at Anne, she said “Come on. My office.”

Anne glanced back at Kirk once more, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before she had to turn, following Dr. Hayes. Once inside the office, the door closed and the curtains drawn, Dr. Hayes sat down in the chair beside her. Anne was struck by her beauty again, the perfect cupid’s bow lips, the large, expressive dark eyes, the perfect fawn-colored complexion. “You’re very beautiful,” Anne said politely. “I always wanted to look like you.”

Dr. Hayes laughed wryly. “I can see the hormone treatment is working. Good. Let’s start off with what happened in that memory.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit sexual content.

Kirk had stayed a little longer than usual on the bridge, making sure the search for asteroid belts that fit the description was going smoothly. Spock had taken charge of it, directing the others and overseeing them, and eventually Kirk had decided they had it well in hand. As he walked back to his quarters, he tried to concentrate on the clues Anne had given them, and not what she’d said afterwards. **  
**

That was impossible, though. And the act itself made him unsettled by his emotions, the anger that someone could do that, the desire to bring Loche to justice. He didn’t have to hear more than just the small bit that Anne had said. That one sentence was descriptive enough to rouse his anger, as well as darker things that he didn’t really want to admit to.

As he approached his quarters, he saw Anne waiting outside the door, still in her uniform, the red denoting her position in Ops. She’d chosen the skirted version, of course. She had been right in that it made her look paler, but he found he didn’t mind the effect. As she looked up, he realized she’d been crying at some point; her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were tearstained. She smiled when she saw him, though, standing away from the wall she’d been leaning against, and he felt his darker thoughts evaporate away.

“Were you waiting long?” he asked, palming the door open. He let her through first, wondering if he could do anything to help her, trying to ignore how that uniform fit her like a damn glove.

“Not too long. I don’t mind.” Anne walked over to the couch and let herself fall onto it, sighing her relief.

“I’d give you access, but I have sensitive information and access to classified materials. I can’t really justify letting you in unsupervised whenever you want.” Kirk sat down beside her, using the toe of one boot to pry off the other. “Not that I don’t trust you. If it was my old apartment in San Francisco it'd be a different story.” That one had been locked down tight, out of self defense. Too many visitors to worry about.

Anne shrugged. “I understand. It’s not a problem.” Her eyes had slid closed. “I’m glad all that helped. The prospect of doing it every day is a bit… daunting, I guess. But I’ll do it.” Her voice sounded tired.

Kirk kicked his other boot off, then took off the gold overshirt and chucked it on the arm of the couch. “Thank you. I mean it. It’s going to be so much easier to catch them if you can provide more information.”

“I’ll try my best,” she said, her eyes still closed, a faint smile on her lips.

“That’s all anyone’s asking.” He would not indulge his curiosity. He would not ask about the therapy session, or the drug. He’d noticed the effect on her almost immediately; she’d become more comfortable, her breathing had slowed, and her body had relaxed. When she’d looked at him, it had been with a sort of wonder, her pupils hugely dilated, a tiny frown drawing her eyebrows together as she examined his face like she was seeing it for the first time-- like she was just learning who he was. “Any plans for today?”

“Study. Study, study, and more study.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “Do you have plans?”

“I have some reports I need to finish, and Spock’s written up his findings on that bomb. I should read it over and see if I come up with any ideas.” Kirk ran a hand through his hair. “Why don’t we just get all this done right now, and then spend the rest of the night relaxing?”

Anne’s eyes stayed on him, solemnly curious. “Was that an invitation to stay?” she asked. There was no hint of clinginess in it-- she was simply asking.

Kirk hadn’t really thought about it; he seemed to have automatically assumed that she was, and he’d spoken on that basis. Examining the idea, he decided it was sound. She’d had a hard day, he’d had a busy one, and there was no need for all that traveling back and forth. “If you want to, yes, I’d like the company.”

Anne’s eyelashes lowered just a touch. “I’ll bet you have ulterior motives,” she teased.

Chuckling, Kirk said, “I hadn’t, but now that you mention it, that’s a good idea too.” He looked her over, letting his gaze linger wherever it wanted. “If you hate that uniform so much, I can definitely assist you with taking it off.”

An answering smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll take you up on that, but not right now. I’ll need another change of clothes if I’m going to stay.” She levered herself up from the couch, and came to stand in front of him. Resting a knee on the couch between his legs, she leaned in, bracing herself with a hand on either side of his head. “I didn’t give you a proper hello,” she said, and then her lips met his. 

Some time later, she was pressed against him, straddling his lap, her breathing rough and her mouth fully occupied by his. He could feel the effort it took for her to pull away, breathing hard, her eyes heavy-lidded and hungry. “I should go,” she said, her arms not budging from around his neck. “I should go. I really need to go.” She buried her face in the curve where his neck met his shoulder, and he felt her teeth graze his skin, giving him goosebumps. That just made him press her harder to him.

“You do need to go. You should get up.” Kirk made no effort at all to release her.

“I really, really need to get up and go,” Anne said into his neck. Lifting her head, she said, “Don’t kiss me again or we won’t get anything at all done tonight.”

It was incredibly hard not to just do it anyway. She wouldn’t have stopped him. Probably. He loosened his arms minutely. “All right. Go get your things. I need to get those reports done, and you need to study.” That sounded terrible, boring as hell, but he couldn’t leave his ship hanging. The Enterprise was more important than his appetites. Besides, if he had her for the whole night...

“Yes,” she said, moving away from him. He could see the regret and desire in her as clearly as if she’d written him a message. A couple of wisps of silver hair had fallen out of the roll, framing her face. She stood. “Okay. I’ll be back.”

Kirk nodded, still recovering from their sudden bout of arousal. The chemistry they had was insane. Anne turned and left, walking quickly, as if she was afraid going any slower would give her time to change her mind. As for himself, he stayed on the couch for a few minutes, letting himself calm down, and then regretfully stood and walked over to his desk.

When she came back, she came with a small case. After brushing a kiss on his temple, she went to the bedroom to unpack it. The entire situation seemed very surreal to Kirk. Even Carol, whom he’d been closest to, hadn’t kept changes of clothing in his closet. But when Anne came out, padd in hand, and flopped down on one of the couches, it also seemed utterly and completely normal for them to go about their duties.

He wondered if this was getting out of hand. It didn’t feel constricting or stifling, though-- it just felt like he had a companion.

By the time he finished going over the last of the reports hours later, he was more than ready to do anything else. At least Anne’s grumbles as she found mistakes she had made were funny. Looking over at the couch, he could see her feet above the back of it, as if she was lying on her stomach. For some reason, that was immensely amusing; it reminded him of the girls at the Academy and the way they had studied.

She’d used the holo projector in the table to access a model of a warp core, programming in her equations, plucking variables from here and there and seeing the effects. For now, it was going untouched. As he approached, he saw her as he’d expected, lying on her stomach with her feet in the air. What he hadn’t expected was that she was using his gold shirt for a pillow, her head resting on it and the padd sideways in front of her so she could read it. There was a real pillow about six inches away from her, but no. It had to be the shirt. A half-full cup of tea sat on the floor, just underneath the table where she could reach it. As she heard him, she dropped the padd onto the floor. “Thank god,” she said. “I was about to start screaming. So much reviewing.”

“Spock’s report says he thinks he can get past the genetic requirement. He has a couple of ideas about how to do it-- I gave him the go-ahead on it. He’s probably already halfway done.” Kirk sat down next to her. “Are you done, or do you need more time?”

Anne huffed, a stray lock of hair falling into her face. Kirk smoothed it away without thinking, getting a little grin for his trouble. “Yes, I’m done. I’ve read all my brain can handle for one day.” She pushed herself up so that she was sitting Japanese-style on her heels, her knees peeking out from under her skirt. Kirk looked her over again, admiring the way the uniform fit her. The red made her skin seem paper-white, but it gave her eyes undertones that were almost purple.

“It does look good on you,” he said, and then grinned at her. “I might be biased, though.”

Anne pretended a frown. “Might? You’re definitely biased.” She sighed. “Anyway, the only reason I’m still wearing it is because you said you wanted to take it off me.”

Despite the casual tone of her words, Kirk found his interest suddenly piqued. “I guess if you want help, you’re going to have to come closer.”

Mixed emotions swirled in her eyes. “Someday, Jim, I’m not going to be afraid to make you come get me. And when that happens, I am going to make it hard for you.”

“I’m good with challenges,” Kirk said, grinning. He’d catch her. She’d let him. “When that happens, you can count on me. But for now…”

That smile again, the one halfway between mystery and modesty. Anne stood and came toward him, beckoning him up. When he stood, she turned so that he could get at the fastener along her spine. As he parted the cloth, he leaned down, kissing the nape of her neck. She murmured, shivering, and looked over her shoulder at him. “Is that part of the service?” she teased.

“That was for me.” He pushed the uniform off her shoulders, helping to free her arms. The uniform clung stubbornly to her hips, refusing to fall off of its own accord. Oh well. Maybe a little help was in order. Kirk slid his hands underneath it, hooking the edge under his thumb, and eased it down. 

Once the uniform made it over the curve of her ass, it fell, crumpling on the floor, leaving Anne in her Starfleet-issue underthings. She stepped delicately out of the dress, kicked it away, and then turned to face him. “Much better,” she said.

“Not yet.” He ignored her confusion, wrapping one arm around her shoulders to pull her to him, taking out the pins in her hair with the other. “I like the way you look when it’s down. You look more… touchable.” He dropped the pins on the table, the pattern of the warp core simulation fritzing in and out around them.

“I don’t have the patience to fuss with it,” Anne said, grinning that lopsided grin with the adorable dimple. “I usually just want it out of my way.” She slid her hands under his shirt, rising on the tips of her toes for a kiss.

He gave in to it completely this time. They had all night. There was no reason not to. Her lips tasted of the tea she’d been drinking, bergamot and vanilla, and she kissed him like she needed his mouth to survive. Her hands moved up, caressing his chest and sides, running slowly over his body like she wanted to savor every little dent and curve. She wasn’t fighting herself; there was no tension in her at all, just need. Kirk decided he could try being a bit bolder. Nipping at her mouth, he held her tightly against him, her breasts crushing deliciously against his chest. She made a soft, surprised noise as he laid her down on the couch, his body over hers, but he felt no resistance, no fear even though he’d done something that she couldn’t have easily stopped.

In fact, she just wrapped those long legs around his hips, pulling him closer to her. Body arching in a deliberately seductive way, she murmured her satisfaction against his lips, continuing to stroke his body, working his shirt upward. Her hands seemed to trace every muscle, to cover every single inch, pinching gently at his nipples and running a fingertip lightly up his spine in a way that gave him goosebumps. The shirt had to go. Kirk broke the kiss, pulling off the shirt and throwing it somewhere, it didn’t matter where so long as it was off him. Anne seemed to agree, smoothing her hands up his back as he leaned back down to tease her with feathery brushes of his lips.

He couldn’t get over the way he could tease her into frustration, the little growling moans she would voice and the way her nails would dig. Aggression spilled out of her, her teeth catching at his lips. “You asshole,” she murmured after a while-- he knew it for what it was, an endearment. Raking her nails lightly down his sides, she ground her hips up at him, rolling them so that she pressed against the entire length of his cock. It was his turn to groan in frustration. There were entirely too many layers of cloth involved here.

Then suddenly the tension came back, without warning and seemingly without a reason. Kirk stilled and lifted his head a bit, looking down at her. “You all right?” he asked.

She nodded, giving another calculated roll of her hips, stealing his breath for a moment. “I was just thinking... there’s not enough room on the couch to do what I want.”

“Oh really?” he asked, intrigued. “Bed?”

“Too far,” she said, making a moue of displeasure. Despite that, she rolled her hips again.

It was getting very hard to concentrate when her hips moved like that. “There's a floor right there,” he said when he’d regained his composure. She nodded and those long legs released him, to his partial dismay. He moved off her and onto the floor, on his knees, moving to pull her down with him.

Anne had other ideas. Instead of getting off the couch, she sat up, pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss that ended up trailing down the line of his jaw in a string of tiny bites and flicks of her tongue, the pulse in his throat then gaining her delicate attention. “Perfect,” she murmured, her lips moving against his neck in a way that made him shiver.

If she had been planning to drive him insane, she was doing a good job of it. Her lips moved over the lines of his chest, tongue and teeth and breath teasing, catching at his skin and giving him goosebumps. It wasn’t just the mechanics of it-- it was the ardent appreciation that she displayed, the satisfaction and pleasure he saw in her eyes every time she heard him catch his breath. Behind that satisfaction, however, was a nervousness that didn’t dissipate. Kirk reached up to stroke her cheek, his thumb running along her cheekbone as her tongue ran along his chest. She responded by leaning into his hand, dropping a kiss on it, and then continuing down further.

By the time her tongue reached the waistband of his pants, he was more than ready for them to just disappear. Her hands slipped into his pants, grabbing his ass. Deciding that was just unnecessarily provocative, he made a soft noise of approval; in his view, there was nothing wrong with unnecessary provocation. Kirk watched her go lower, undoing his pants with her teeth, and sliding her tongue underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. Her tension was not winning this battle. Although he could see it in the lines of her back, she kept going.

After teasing him for what felt like an eternity, Anne finally lifted her lips from his skin and sat back to pull off his pants. He helped her then, baring himself, his cock straining. Her breath tickled as she dragged her lips down from his navel to just above the tip of his cock and paused. He stayed very still, realizing there was nothing to do but let her make this decision. No wonder she’d been tense-- she had some bad memories of being forced into giving head. The feel of her breath so close was killing him, though. Finally, he felt a quick, gentle lick, just a taste that elicited a groan of pleasure from him. Looking up, she caught his eyes, then rose to a seated position, her hands lightly touching his shoulders. “Lie back,” she murmured, ”and don’t touch my hair.”

The table was behind him. Oh well, on the table, then. The holographic display glitched and shimmered as he lay back, making surreal patterns in the air. Anne followed him, her gaze running over his body, admiring him. “Why are you so damn perfect, Jim?” she asked. A blue-green glimmer flickered over her face as she leaned down, dragging her lips down his chest. Her hair trailed in her wake, the kind of feathery pressure he’d always imagined when feeling the weight of her gaze. “Why can’t you have a flaw, even just one? It’s ridiculous.”

“My only flaw is that I’m too perfect,” he teased.

She licked gently at the hollow of his hip, running her tongue down to the crease of his thigh, far enough down that she could tug gently at his curls. Kirk caught his breath, stopped himself from lifting a hand. He didn’t want to scare her off. He could see by the set of her shoulders and the quickness of her breath that she was already uncertain.

Still. Just stay still. It didn’t matter that he wanted to drag her up and thrust into her, or even just push her head down. If he didn’t stay still now, with her breath dancing over his skin, she might never be this comfortable with him again.

It seemed like eternities of gentle licks and light sucking everywhere except his cock. In her hesitance, she was being even more of a tease than usual. When he finally felt the wet heat of her tongue draw a line up the underside of his cock, base to tip, he had to clench his fists, a sigh exploding out of him. Her soft little mouth brushed the skin, kissed it, that tongue of hers delicately tasting here and there. Kirk ended up folding his arms behind his head to keep from reaching out, watching the weird blue-green patterns crawl over her hair and skin.

As time went on, Anne grew bolder, her hands and mouth firmer. Kirk made no secret of it when she did something he liked, and she picked up on it very quickly, paying more attention to the underside of the head, or stroking him as she placed little sucking kisses all over. Her eyes would flick up to meet his, the tension in them diminishing as she watched him enjoy what she was doing. It was being replaced by satisfaction, almost smugness.

That tension was almost gone when she finally took him into her mouth. And she was fantastic, her tongue dancing on his beating flesh, her mouth sucking, even the little purr of satisfaction in the back of her throat adding to the sensations. With all the teasing, it took very little to get him to the edge of orgasm… but if he came, she would stop, and he didn’t want that. He held it off as best he could, Anne realizing what he was doing and easing off from time to time to allow him to catch his breath. He waited until he could feel his pulse racing everywhere, until his body felt like it was about to come apart at the seams before he said, “Anne, I--”

His gasp cut off the rest, as Anne suddenly pulled as much of him as she could get into her mouth, sucking fiercely. Her nails dragged lightly along the insides of his thighs, and it was that gentle sensation on top of all the rest that pushed him over the edge and into orgasm. Bliss exploded through his veins, his body arching, and the pleasure blanked out everything else for an endless moment. When it receded, leaving him languid and sensitive, she lifted her head, looking at him as if she was enchanted by the sight. “I used to love doing that,” she murmured. “I loved the way they looked, so sensual and tense and carried away.” She paused, scooting closer to him so that she could lie down against him.

“And now?” Kirk asked, unable to help himself. He would rather know if she had been uncomfortable than assume she was fine.

“I was worried,” Anne said. “And sometimes it reminded me. But it’s you.” She idly stroked his chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder, and then reached down to grab his hand. When she thrust it between her thighs, Kirk found her slick, dripping, even through her panties.

With a low laugh, he murmured, “Let me take care of that for you.” He freed his hand from hers and slid it into her panties. The moment a fingertip ran over her clit, she made a soft, strangled noise. That only encouraged him; he began to rub gently, pressing her against him with his other arm. Her legs tangled with his, toes curling, and her body moved restlessly. She was fascinating to watch like this, so open and vulnerable, so greedy for touch. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, her lips parted, making little sounds of satisfaction.

Kirk had a momentary urge to tease her the way she’d teased him, but decided against it. She seemed to think just watching him while sucking his cock was a tease all on its own. With that in mind, he increased the pace and pressure of his fingers until she was gasping for breath, pressing close to him. Then his finger slid down and in, her hips thrusting at it, the heel of his palm grinding her clit. By that time, she’d buried her face in his chest, making soft, frantic little noises against his skin.

When she came, she locked up, her entire body tensing. She didn’t even breathe. Her cheeks and chest pinked, and her eyes shut tight. And as soon as she came out of it, she gasped, uncurling and clinging to him, her whole body shuddering with the force of it.

He liked knowing he could do that to her. She usually seemed so self-possessed.

She tilted her head up for a kiss, a dreamy smile on her face, and Kirk obliged her. That kiss turned into another, and another, and with his hand still trapped between her thighs and her body pressed against him, she began to stroke him, her fingers tracing every line of his body. Kirk felt his cock start to harden again.

The door chime rang. Kirk and Anne pulled apart in startlement. Maybe it had been a fluke?

It rang again. “Just a moment,” Kirk said, pulling his hand out of Anne’s panties and looking around for his clothes. Anne scrambled over to where she’d kicked her uniform, and slid it over her head. At the same time, Kirk was yanking up his pants. “Where’s my shirt?” he asked.

Anne scanned the room while trying to do up the fastener on her back. “There,” she said, pointing at the desk.

Maybe throwing the shirt hadn’t been such a good idea. Kirk grabbed it and pulled it on. The door chime rang again. Glancing over at Anne and down at himself, he ran a hand through his hair and decided they were presentable enough. “Come in,” he said, walking over to sit on the couch.

Anne followed, smoothing her hair as she sat beside him. At least it didn’t look like they’d been naked on the table moments ago. Spock and Uhura entered, Uhura’s eyebrows rising when she saw Anne.

“Captain, I apologize. We didn’t know you had company,” Uhura said.

“It will be useful to have Ms. Hardesty’s input.” Spock seated himself on the couch across from Kirk, giving him an almost aggressively bland look that made Kirk deeply suspicious of the ‘we’ in Uhura’s statement.

The warp core simulation was still running, fritzing out around the hairpins, blocking Spock’s view of Kirk; Anne reached over and blanked it. “Sorry. I was just studying.”

Uhura sat down next to Spock. “Of course,” she said, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone.

“Captain, I implemented the procedures I outlined in my report, and I was successful. The detonator is disarmed, and I have blocked the signal it was sending.” He looked to Uhura.

Uhura nodded. “I analyzed the signal itself. It was encrypted, but I managed to translate it. It’s a locator beacon, and it was on an odd wavelength, one that has too much interference to transmit much more than very short data bursts. There’s a rudimentary computer in the implant that can receive signals. It looks like it was specifically for setting off the bomb.”

Kirk thought for a moment. A locator beacon could be useful. He glanced at Anne. “Could this be used to lure Loche out of hiding?”

Anne shook her head. “He wouldn’t come himself. He’d send some of his men.”

“That’s better than nothing. We could follow them back to the asteroid base.” Kirk frowned. “We’ll have to figure out what kind of armaments it has.”

“I do not believe that an open confrontation will be the wisest course of action, Captain.” Spock’s face was expressionless. “Infiltration and sabotage of their defensive systems is more personally dangerous, but I believe it will yield better results.”

“Scotty,” Kirk said. “If we can get him in, he can shut down their defenses.”

Anne broke in, her voice slow and pained. “He can sell someone to them. That’s the best way to get him in.” Anne smiled, but it was a grim, humorless smile. “There’s always a market for a pretty girl.”

Uhura pressed her lips together. “I’ll go.”

“No. No. You cannot do this.” Anne said, sudden panic gripping her, her words sounding strange, that trace of an accent returning. Kirk touched her shoulder gently, and she calmed a little. “Lieutenant, you cannot go. You have no idea what he’s like. He might kill you just because he can. You don’t know how to survive him.”

“You can teach me,” Uhura said, her mouth set. “You can tell me what I need to know.”

“No, I …” Anne closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Crewman Hardesty,” Kirk said, the weight of his authority shoving aside that basic urge to protect her. “If you don’t help her, that greatly increases her risks. I can’t allow that.”

Anne’s eyes went wide, surprise and then rebelliousness reflected in them. “No. I will go. I’m safer than Lieutenant Uhura; he won’t kill me. He’d be glad to have me back. And if his attention is on me, it won’t be on Mr. Scott.”

Kirk closed his eyes for a moment, horrified. “No. Out of the question.”

“Ms. Hardesty’s logic is sound, Captain. Her course of action may be the optimal one. I have reason to believe that Loche would be entirely distracted by Ms. Hardesty, and Mr. Scott would have more freedom to investigate and disable defense systems.” Spock glanced at Uhura. “It may be best to send both of you, however. In that case you both will know you have an ally close by.”

Uhura lifted her chin. “I’ll do it.”

Anne closed her eyes, then opened them again, trying to calm herself. The haunted grey mist of them proved that it worked only just enough. “Lieutenant, Nyota, you don’t understand. You don’t understand what he can do to you, what being there can do to you. I was put in a position where the only rational option I had was to beat someone to death. And that’s one of the things that I _do_ remember. There were worse things. I know that.”

Uhura looked shocked by the admission, but her lips firmed. “All the more reason to bring him down.”

Kirk was silent during this exchange, his emotions in turmoil. He didn’t want Anne to go. She’d already endured horrors, and to have her face more was unthinkable. At the same time it was clear that if Anne had some sort of emotional hold on Loche, it was a weapon they couldn’t afford not to use if she was offering it. Fighting back his personal feelings, he said, “We’ll implement this plan when we have more information about the location and defenses of the asteroid base. I’ll send a communique to the Farragut-A; she’s surveying a planetary system nearby, and she can help us if we need it.” Captain Vergne was an old friend of his. She'd come if he needed her.

Spock nodded. “I will attempt to concentrate on finding memories that may locate the base and the defense systems.”

“We’ll have to put the implant back,” Kirk said gently, watching Anne’s face for a reaction. “We can do it just before you go.”

The terror in her eyes was reflected in her voice, thin and faint. “I know,” she said. She looked to Uhura. “I’ll tell you what I can of Loche.”

Uhura nodded. “Thank you. I know this is hard for you, and I want you to know I appreciate it.”

Anne seemed to have folded in on herself, grown smaller. Her eyes were huge with fear, and she barely acknowledged Uhura. Kirk couldn’t stand to see her like that. He leaned toward her, wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her close. “You know I’ll come get you, right?” he asked, looking down into her face.

She nodded, almost childlike in her fear. He’d never seen her that bad before. “I know.”

Uhura stood, beckoning Spock up. She’d always been adept at reading situations, and she probably knew how much he wanted some privacy. “That’s settled, then. I’d like to spend some time with you after our shift is over tomorrow, Anne. Whatever you can tell me about the situation is useful.”

Again, Anne barely acknowledged her, trapped in her private horrors. Kirk looked at Uhura. “We’ll make it a briefing with Mr. Scott after an hour or so for you two to talk. Keep me informed of any other developments.” They assured him that they would, and they left the room.

Once the doors slid closed, Kirk sighed, kissing the top of Anne’s head. The words came out of him in spite of himself, in spite of what he knew was best for the mission. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to do this.”

“She’s too assertive,” Anne said dully. “Loche will kill her if she goes alone.”

“Going back there is crazy. You already survived it once, you don’t have to do it again. It’s just going to hurt you even more.” Kirk rested his chin on top of her head. He'd known she would insist. If he hadn’t known, he wasn’t sure he would have said anything. “We’ll have to tell Dr. Hayes. She might be able to prepare you for it.”

“I’ll tell her tomorrow, when I have my session with her.” Anne’s voice was still dull, as if the spark of life in her had dimmed to a mere flicker.

She didn’t resist when he pulled her into his lap. She was passive, still trapped in her recollections. It was the closest Kirk had ever seen to the dissociations that Dr. Hayes had observed. He decided that the only course of action was to wait it out, let her return to herself in her own time. So he simply held her, hoping that was comforting enough.

It took a long time, but eventually she began to stir. “I can’t let her go alone,” Anne said, her voice soft. “She’s… She’s Starfleet. It shows. Loche does not like self-assured, thinking, confident women, and she is all of that. He would break her. He’d enjoy it.”

Kirk pressed her against him and tried once more, knowing the outcome, feeling like a hypocrite. “I can’t reasonably order you not to go. Uhura and Scotty will need you. But me personally, I wish you would refuse to go.”

“I know,” she said, and laughed bitterly. “I’d rather die than go back there, but… you’ll come for me, I know it.” She shifted, turned her face up to his. “Kiss me, Jim. I don’t want to remember this right now.”

He did, carefully, and gently, and thoroughly. And in that way their kisses had, it turned into more, an intense, sweet experience that left them both exhausted and tender. They managed a small dinner before they curled up in bed, Anne pressed tightly to Kirk’s chest. And when her nightmares woke him, he held her tighter, waking her, and tried to make her feel safe.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Psychological abuse, rape mention.

Taking a deep breath, Anne said, “All right. I’m ready.” Spock’s fingers touched her face, and she felt the now-familiar sensation of him in her mind, the cool stillness in the midst of all her raging feelings. She’d almost been swamped under by them ever since she’d decided she was going back to Loche. Memories of him flitted to the top of her mind, his lean, strong body, his cruel hands, the way he looked at her when he made her scream. The way he had handed her over to the guards, or the engineers, or the technicians when she displeased him. The brutality of his body against hers, whenever, wherever. **  
**

She couldn’t believe she was going back.

Spock selected a memory on his own this time, a fairly innocuous one; she sat on the floor by Loche’s side in his bedroom, the stone walls covered by tapestries, the layered carpets lush and inviting. There were bloodstains near the heavily curtained bed. Loche murmured aloud as he went over the emergency provisioning. “Two hundred days of rations for two hundred fifty men. Two phasers for each man, and twice that in the armory. One thousand jumpsuits. Five hundred pairs of boots.” He glanced at her, laughter in his eyes. “And you, my dear, will starve unless you can somehow convince some generous man to share his rations with you.”

It was safer not to answer verbally. She nodded, looking earnestly up at him.

“Look at you,” he said, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her up. She got her feet under her and ended up in a half-crouch. “What a disgrace you are. I should make you work harder for that food ration.” He abruptly let his arm go limp, sending her off-balance. “Sit.”

Obediently, Anne sat, her mind shrieking its hatred.

“Brynna was right to try to poison you. You’re such a brutal little thing,” Loche murmured, his eyes searching her face, his hand still fisted in her hair. “Maybe I should get rid of you.”

A bolt of fear shot through Anne. Did he mean to kill her? “I’ll do whatever you want,” she said, letting her fear show.

“I know you will.” Loche tugged on her hair almost affectionately. “But for all your obedience, you’re still your own creature, aren’t you?”

“If you say so,” Anne said, still allowing her fear to show through.

Loche looked back to his list. “Two of the shield generators are down again. That magnetic field has its drawbacks.” He looked down at her. “I’ll have to oversee the repairs. When I get back, I want to see you in my bed, waiting for me. And lay out the knives.”

“Bien sûr, Loche,” Anne said automatically. The knives. The bloodstains near the bed. The idea chilled her to the core. But when Loche got up and left, Anne walked to the cabinet and pulled out the tray of knives. They gleamed in the low light, silver and deadly and spotlessly cleaned, the edges ranging from razor sharp to dull enough that it was less a knife than a metal spike.

Looking at them, Anne shuddered. She knew what was coming. She couldn’t get out of it. There was no way out of here. If she ran, her punishment would only be worse. She brought the knives over to the bedside table, laying them out carefully, as straight as she could make them, stowing the tray underneath the table. She shrugged off the loose garment she was wearing, a shapeless bit of cloth that served to cover her but provided nothing else, not even color; it was a bland taupe.

Folding it, she placed it on the floor under the table with the tray. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Could she kill him?

Anne wasn’t sure. He was stronger than she was, and while she would use a knife, there were others within reach. But what good would it do? It wasn’t as if she could leave on one of the ships. One of his lieutenants, men that bought into his cruel philosophies, would just take her. She couldn’t fight them all alone. No one would take her away, not when they could have her instead, and this place was remote enough that it was unlikely she could hail a passing ship or send out a distress signal. Even if she did and someone answered, they would only be led into a hive of hard-bitten men who knew their way around combat.

Anne slid into his bed and lay there, staring at the knives. Could she kill him? Would it do any good? She drew the covers up around her, and imagined sinking a knife into his throat. That, she knew she could do. But escaping… presented the same problems as when Loche was alive. She could only bargain for so much with sex. She doubted the guards would be willing to look the other way as she stole a ship, not even for something more than the usual quick tumble. It wasn’t even as if she could fly a ship.

Even if she killed him, she still couldn’t get out. She wouldn’t even make it to the docking bays; they were in the furthest end from her, somewhere in Section Three. And Sections One and Two were always crawling with people, visitors as well as residents. Not too many visitors, though. Loche kept a close eye on the amount of visitors, though they were smugglers and pirates, all. 

Would one of them be sympathetic enough to help her?

More likely, killing Loche would leave her unprotected against the rest.

Anne stared at the knives.

She was abruptly yanked out of the memory by Spock, though she remembered the aftermath of it now. That was the night he’d scarred her. The very thought of that night brought it roaring back, her hands tied above her head, Loche inside her, the blood welling up on her skin, so scarlet it looked unreal, the nauseating warmth and then the pain--

Spock pulled her out of it again, conveying that he doubted that particular memory would be useful, and that reliving it would only cause her pain to no discernible benefit.

Anne shakily agreed, and wondered if what they’d found was enough to bring to Kirk’s attention, or if they should look elsewhere.

After considering, Spock decided that the memory they had found was sufficient. It was the least damaging memory that had seemed of use; any of the others would be worse. There was more than enough information in this one to continue with, for the moment.

As Anne agreed again, the watercolor blur of reality started to slide back into focus. She could feel Kirk at her back, Dr. Hayes and Dr. McCoy watching as she drifted back up to consciousness.

Spock spoke before she could. “There is a complement of two hundred fifty men living permanently in the asteroid structure, and according to Ms. Hardesty’s memory, there are usually approximately seventy-five transients. All of them must be considered combatants. They are supplied for a siege, and have more than two shield generators.”

Anne broke in. “The asteroids have a magnetic field. It’s strong enough that it damages the shield generators.” Those knives. There was something about those knives.

Kirk flipped open his communicator, scowling. He hadn’t liked the news about the crew complement of the asteroid “Scotty. Find out how strong a naturally-occurring magnetic field needs to be to degrade shield generators.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Scotty said. 

“The magnetic field may be the reason the locator used the odd frequency that Lieutenant Uhura noticed,” Spock said. “I will bring it up with her in case there are more ramifications.”

“Good work,” Kirk said. “Anything else you can remember?”

Those knives. Anne felt the blood leave her face. Something was there. “The structure is three asteroids; they call them Sections One, Two, and Three. Living quarters are in Section One. Computers and defenses are Section Two. Docking is in Section Three.” Her voice was suddenly shaky.

Something about those knives.

Dr. Hayes frowned, watching Anne’s face. “What is it? You’re fighting something.”

Anne closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, pushing the feel of the knife in her hand away. “I don’t want to talk about it. If I talk, I’ll remember it.”

“Part of therapy is talking about those things, Anne,” Dr. Hayes said gently.

Something inside Anne broke. Her back straightened, her entire body stiffening. “ _Non_.” Her voice was just as angry as it was afraid. She pulled her American accent back into place. “I can’t do that. Not now. Not yet.” 

Kirk’s hand on her shoulder squeezed reassuringly, and Anne looked up at him. His eyes were serious, considering. “It’s probably time for those barfight lessons I was going to give you.”

That coaxed a small smile from Anne in spite of herself. “I’ll go easy on you. I hear you’re delicate.”

His answering smile went a long way towards dispelling the fear and anger. “I’m willing to risk it. We can hit the gym at 1515.”

Spock’s voice startled Anne back into paying attention to the others. “I believe there is something you should notify Dr. Hayes and Dr. McCoy of before we proceed any further.”

Kirk’s fingers tightened on Anne’s shoulder. The news about the crew hadn’t changed his mind about their strategy. “We’ve decided on a plan--”

Anne interrupted him, all remnants of her smile gone. “Let me do it. It was my decision.” Kirk just raised his eyebrows, motioning for her to proceed. He wasn’t used to being pre-empted, but that didn’t matter now. She took a deep breath. “I’m going back there. When the time comes, Mr. Scott will sell Lieutenant Uhura and I to Loche to gain access to the defenses and sabotage them.”

Dr. Hayes’ eyes turned so cold that they were almost frightening. She looked up at Kirk. “How can you approve of this?” she demanded, furious.

“I can’t allow my personal feelings to interfere with the safety of my crew. Scotty and Uhura have much better chances of survival and success if Anne goes along with them, especially now that we know what kind of numbers we’re facing. A head-on attack won’t have a chance, and we need to do this quickly, before it leaks that Starfleet is interested in this area. Tactically speaking, infiltration is our best bet.” Kirk’s poker face was good. If Anne hadn’t spent so much time watching him, she wouldn’t have seen the frustration in his eyes.

Dr. McCoy had been startled by Anne’s declaration, but he recovered himself. “Claudia, he’s right. Crewman Hardesty has special knowledge that--”

Dr. Hayes rounded on him like a cornered cat; Anne could almost see her bristling. “Leonard, I can’t believe you. She’s traumatized, goddamn it. You don’t know what’s going to happen if you put her in that situation again.” 

“That’s why we’re telling you,” Kirk said. “If there’s anything you can do to help her prepare for it, it would be best to start now.”

“And if I put her on a medical suspension?” Dr. Hayes asked.

There was a short silence. Dr. McCoy was the first to speak. “You could do that. And if I felt it necessary, I might revert it. I’m still the Chief Medical Officer here. But Claudia, look at the girl. Even Spock can see that she’s made up her mind.”

Dr. Hayes looked at her, and Anne lifted her chin, defiant. “I’m doing this with or without your help. I’m not Starfleet. Your orders and my permanent record mean jack shit to me. Lieutenant Uhura will be risking her life alone. You can’t keep me from helping her.”

There was a tense silence, and then Dr. Hayes slowly made herself relax. “All right. I’m logging a complaint about this, but all right.” She turned, grabbing the hypospray. “We’ll continue on with the session. Seems I’ve got to get some results soon.” She glared at Kirk, but didn’t add anything.

Kirk’s fingers tightened on Anne’s shoulder again, and he made a half-step forward, leaning into her. Anne lifted her chin, baring her neck for the hypo. Dr. Hayes shot her up, and Anne sighed. “Still a waste of a good high,” she murmured.

It got a smile from Kirk, and that was what mattered. “Save your experimenting for shore leave, Crewman,” he said, and while it was delivered as a gentle reprimand, Anne knew teasing when she heard it.

“Aye, sir,” she said, rolling her eyes.

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard an amused huff from McCoy’s direction. “Claudia, come speak to me after your session,” Dr. McCoy said.

Dr. Hayes nodded, and McCoy walked away toward his office. Spock looked to Kirk. “Captain, with your permission I’ll adjust the search parameters to include this new information.”

“Go ahead, Spock,” Kirk said. “I’ll join you momentarily.”

Once Spock had left the room, Dr. Hayes leaned back against one of the examination tables. “Captain Kirk, I strongly protest this course of action.”

“You’re not the only one,” he answered, looking down at Anne and then back up to Dr. Hayes. “Your protest is noted.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Dr. Hayes asked.

“Granted,” Kirk replied.

“This is bullshit. Don’t tell me you have no way to stop her from going, because I know you can if you want to.” Dr. Hayes’ jaw tightened.

Anne felt herself starting to grow warm, and that fascination with sensory input came back. She wanted to see this through, though, so she said nothing.

“It’s not a matter of what I want, Dr. Hayes.” Kirk’s frustration leaked out in his voice.

“Neither of you get to decide what I do,” Anne said quietly, firmly. “I decide. I make my choices. Not you.”

There was a little moment of silence as Dr. Hayes scrutinized Anne. “I’m not trying to take your autonomy, Anne,” Dr. Hayes finally said. Then she glanced at Kirk, and reluctantly added, “Neither of us are.”

“Your intent doesn’t matter if that’s what you end up doing,” Anne said. “I know better than either of you what I'm walking back into. I hate it. I don't want to go back into that hell. But…” She looked up at Kirk, who gave her a crooked, rueful little grin. “As long as I know you’re coming to get me out of there, I can stand it.”

“I can see I’m going to have to adjust my approach,” Dr. Hayes said. “Well then. Look at me.” Anne tore her eyes away from Kirk. He really was ridiculously good looking. She had to remember not to immediately look back at him just to see if he could possibly be that good looking. “Hmm. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice when the drug kicked in.” Dr. Hayes set her hands on her hips, exasperated. On her, it looked lovely, her dark eyes flashing and her full lips pressed together.

“I did notice. I just wanted to finish this discussion.” Anne sighed dreamily, leaning her head against Kirk’s chest for a moment, then hopping down from the table and stepping away. She looked over her shoulder. “1515 in the gym, right?”

“Right,” he said. Looking to Dr. Hayes, he asked, “If that’s all, doctor?”

Dr. Hayes’ exasperation only became edged with real anger, her eyes narrowing. “I see that hero complex is thriving. At least it’ll be of some use if you go through with this ridiculous plan.”

“Dr. Hayes, you may as well go all the way and call it a folie à deux by now,” Anne laughed as she walked toward Dr. Hayes’ office. That euphoria was hitting hard this time.

As she glanced over her shoulder for one last look at Kirk, she saw him shaking his head. “I’ve got a strategy meeting to organize. If you feel we need to continue this discussion, we can do so at a later time.” His eyes caught Anne’s as he turned to leave, and she saw his expression warm. He almost smiled. Anne did smile. His eyes were so blue it hurt. She had to tear herself away again to make sure she didn’t walk into a wall by accident.

As Anne walked into the office, she heard Dr. Hayes sigh heavily. Once the door was closed behind them both, Dr. Hayes grabbed a padd off her desk and sat down in the chair beside Anne’s. “You really shouldn’t do this, Anne. It’s going to do so much damage.”

“I know, Doctor. Believe me, I know. But I can’t let Lieutenant Uhura go in alone, and I really can survive it as long as I know Jim is coming.” Anne smiled, and it felt like the kind of stupid giddy smile someone would wear in the midst of an infatuation. It was an odd feeling, for her. Infatuation wasn’t something that usually affected her.

“What makes you feel like you have to do this?” Dr. Hayes asked, evidently giving up on warnings for the moment and going into examination mode.

Anne’s smile diminished only slightly. “Doctor, wouldn’t you? If you knew your presence could be the difference between life and death for someone, how could you possibly refuse, no matter how hard it might be?” She shook her head. “I’m hurt, but I’m not that broken.”

Dr. Hayes looked thoughtfully at her. “I hope not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! So I went back and inserted little hearts wherever there's a deleted scene or a side story that didn't fit in with the main plot. All you have to do is click on them and you'll be taken to the extra stuff! Currently they are in Chapters 6, 8, 10, 14, 18, 21, 22, 24, and 25. There will be more as the story goes on!
> 
> Thanks for reading this far! I hope you're all enjoying yourselves!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: non-graphic discussion of torture, suicide.

This time when the door chime rang, Anne and Kirk were not in a compromising position. Being warned ahead of time had been a big help with that, and while their shower after the gym had been a little playful, they both knew they had to keep things relatively under control. **  
**

It was increasingly hard to keep her hands off him. Even in the gym, when she’d been trying to concentrate on learning how to brawl-- at least a little-- she found herself wanting to touch him, and not wanting to examine whether that was because she was more comfortable with him or because it was comforting. As for the fighting, he hadn’t taught her anything fancy, just a little more aggressive self-defense than she already knew, which was mostly how to run. He’d insisted that they spend at least an hour a day working on the punches and dirty fighting he taught her, drilling her so that she would remember to use it if needed. Most of the lesson had kept her attention, but by the end, when they were starting to get out of breath and sweaty, Anne felt her mind wandering more often, drawn to the way the gym outfit clung to his body. She didn’t even have the excuse of the drug to rely on; Dr. Hayes had given her the counteractive before she’d left, and by the time she’d even made it to the gym it had worn off.

Now, when the chime rang, Anne was sitting on the couch, towelling off her hair, wearing a white dress that was decidedly not Starfleet issue. The scooped neckline was low enough to reveal some cleavage, as well as the scar that curled up over her heart. There was no reason to wear high-necked clothes, at least not here in Kirk’s quarters. Uhura and Mr. Scott would probably be seeing pieces of her scars soon anyway. Kirk was at his desk, going over the reports and the results of their search for Loche’s base. “Come in,” Kirk said, looking up to the door.

Lieutenant Uhura stepped in, suppressing a smile when she saw the towel in Anne’s hands, the smile fading when she noted Anne’s scar. “Captain. Ms. Hardesty.”

“Come sit down, Lieutenant. Do you want anything to drink? Tea, maybe?” Anne stood, draping the towel over her arm, the short, loose dress flaring out around her thighs.

“I’d like that, thank you.” Uhura walked over to the couch, elegant as a leopard, and seated herself.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Anne spoke as she walked over to the bedroom. She slipped through the door, hanging the towel in the washroom, and walked back out to the food synthesizer. Punching in the codes for tea, cream, sugar, and an assortment of biscuits, she waited for the food to materialize. “I’m sorry I had to change the time on such short notice. The Captain decided that some self-defense training was in order.”

“It wasn’t any trouble.” Uhura glanced over her shoulder at Kirk, but said nothing about his presence. “I appreciate that you’re doing this at all. I don’t like the idea of going in blind.”

Anne took the tray from the synthesizer and brought it over, setting it on the low table. Pouring for them both, she asked, “Cream and sugar?”

Uhura looked mildly surprised. The etiquette Anne was using was more than a bit old-fashioned. “Both, please, but only a touch of each.”

After adding a little cream and sugar to Uhura’s cup, she passed it off and added some cream to her own teacup. After sipping it, she said, “I don’t want to talk about it, but if you go in blind, you’re going to be in trouble very quickly. You’re the one who needs the most protection.”

Before Uhura could reply, Kirk spoke up from his desk. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I’m here?” he asked. “I can leave if you’d rather have privacy.”

Lips twitching with amusement, Anne said, “I’m not going to kick you out of your own room. You rate a little higher than that.” She took another sip of her tea. “But only a little.”

Uhura smothered a grin, and Kirk scoffed. “I rate a lot higher than that and you know it,” he said. Turning serious, he added, “But I do mean it. I can go check on progress on the bridge.”

“Only if you would rather not hear this,” Anne said. “I won’t be insulted if that’s the case.”

“I think I can stand it,” he said, giving her a wry half-smile. “I’ll just be over here if you need me.”

“Thank you,” Anne said, and she didn’t hide the warmth in her voice. Turning her attention to Uhura, she said, “You’re about to find out some very personal things about me, and about what I remember of being in captivity. Many of them are things I’m not proud of; I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

Uhura nodded, selecting one of the biscuits and dunking it in her tea. “You valued survival. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Anne watched her closely, for long enough that Uhura noticed and sat back, returning her gaze evenly. “I survived, yes,” Anne eventually said. “And luckily I was able to get away, or I might have found out even worse things about myself.” She sipped her tea again, gathering her composure. “Loche does not like women who think for themselves. What he likes is a woman whose only thoughts are the ones he gives her. I think that may be hard for you.”

Frowning, Uhura said, “If my life is at stake, I can fake it.”

“It will be,” Anne said. “Although I do have a suggestion for a small modification to the plan. If Mr. Scott is willing, it would be best to pretend that you belong to him. Loche will keep his hands off you then, and you’ll be able to pass messages if we need you to. It’s better cover for all of us.”

Kirk spoke up from his desk. “And why couldn’t he keep you?” he asked without looking up from his viewscreen. 

Anne took a moment to respond. “Because there’s a good chance that if Mr. Scott doesn’t sell me to Loche, he might end up dead and I’d be with Loche anyway.”

“Fair enough,” Kirk answered and subsided.

“If I stay with Scotty, why do I still have to worry about what Loche thinks?” Uhura asked.

Looking thoughtfully at Uhura, Anne said, “He’s the reason they’re all there. Every single person who is willingly on that base is there because of promises he made, and one of those promises was that they were… superior. He proves that to them by commodifying everyone who doesn’t match what he thinks of as useful. Part of that is a split along gender lines.” She felt herself smile humorlessly. “You’re a woman. Your biology determines your usefulness. You can’t help that. And you don’t just worry about him. You worry about all of them. He's the brain, but the body enforces his decisions.”

Uhura squared her shoulders and took a bite of her biscuit, mulling this over. “What is the best way to be unobtrusive to him?”

“With your looks? There isn’t one.” Anne sighed. “The best way to be just entertaining enough that he mostly leaves you alone is capitulation. Do what he says, when he says it. Don’t talk if you can help it. Absolutely do not glare at him, or show any disapproval, ever, because he takes that as a personal insult.”

Slowly, Uhura asked, “What kinds of things will he ask me to do?”

“If you’re not his, he won’t force you into anything sexual, if that’s what you mean. He has very definite ideas about ownership, and he has his own captives for that. But he may tell you to fetch things, to arrange things, how to sit, where to stand, where to walk…” Anne fidgeted with her teacup. “Anything, really. Typically he wants women to be decorative, silent, and obedient.”

“I can manage that, for a while,” Uhura said.

Anne set down her tea and picked up one of the biscuits, a lemon drop, and broke it, then began to break the pieces of it, letting them fall onto the tray. “I learned most of this the hard way. If I tell you he only likes to hear you parrot his ideas back to him, it means I tried every other goddamn thing under the sun and got hit for it most of the time. He’s very free with his fists. If he tells you to do something, do it immediately, no questions asked.” Looking away, Anne added, “Don’t be friendly to anyone, even me. I mean, don’t be unfriendly either, but if you seem to enjoy someone’s company, he’ll find a way to hurt you with it.”

“I see,” Uhura said, a hint of sympathy in her eyes. The implication was clear; she thought Anne had been in that position.

Shaking her head, Anne said, “Oh, it didn’t happen to me. I remember being told to threaten a pair of girls, younger ones, who were becoming close. That was after I killed Brynna, so the other captives were afraid of me. Brynna’s death was… brutal. As for the girls who were getting friendly, I didn’t want to break it up, but I did, and one of the girls killed herself shortly afterward.” Anne smiled, but it was a hard, bleak smile. “He comforted the other girl. When it was something like that, something that wasn’t his doing, he could be very warm, very sympathetic. Every one of them eventually believed it, except me. I don’t really know why I never did.” She licked a smear of lemon filling off her finger. “It would have been easier.”

Uhura looked down, as if thinking hard about something, then met Anne’s gaze again. “It sounds like you were kept apart.”

“I was. I couldn’t tell you for certain what caused it, but I didn’t get along with them anyway.” Anne swallowed hard. “I was just a novelty at first. Then I killed Brynna. He took a liking to me. He moved me closer to him and away from them.” She paused, then added, “I’m counting on the fact that he really didn’t want to lose me to keep his attention on me.”

“Does he have a gambling problem?” Uhura asked. “Why would he bet you if he didn’t want to lose you?”

“It was complicated,” Anne said, then had to make a split second decision as to what more to say. This wasn’t something Kirk would like hearing… so best not to tell him. She would have to warn someone, though. “Technically I was part of a bet on the outcome of a dom-jot game, but… Tarenn was a fool and no one expected him to win, let alone walk out of there alive afterward.” Anne shook her head. “He just wasn’t as much of a fool as Loche thought. Loche overestimated himself.” She cut her eyes over toward Kirk without turning her head. “I wasn’t even in the room.”

Uhura’s eyes widened as she caught on. “I see. Well, what kind of specifics can you tell me about how to act? Be quiet, obedient, don’t contradict him-- all that is fine enough, but I could have figured that out on my own.”

Anne gave her the ghost of a smile in gratitude for getting the message so quickly. This wouldn’t change anything anyway. “The thing you’re going to have trouble with is that you’ll need to give up. Cringe. Be frightened of him. Be frightened of Mr. Scott, if you can manage it, and wary of him if you can’t. If one of them makes a sudden move towards you, your first instinct should be to flinch and _not to move from that spot_. If you try to get away from him, he’ll hit you twice as hard. If you try to fight back, he will likely kill you. I’ve…” Anne trailed off, and then slammed the blossoming memory out of her mind, her breathing quickening. “I’ve seen it happen, I’m guessing. Forgive me if I don’t want to examine that any further. But no, don’t move. Don’t even breathe in the wrong direction, if you can help it. If you see a fist coming your way, you need to cringe and you need to let that punch land, no matter what.”

Uhura considered the magnitude of this task with dawning apprehension. “That’s… a lot harder than it seems. We’re taught to fight back, or at least to try to retreat.”

“And you’re good at it. I could tell just by watching you. You carry yourself very lightly, like a dancer.” Anne brought a piece of biscuit up to her mouth as if to eat it, then flicked it at Uhura. As she expected, Uhura’s hand rose immediately, catching it, and she paled a little when she realized what she had done. Anne gave her a crooked smile. “I know. That’s the reflex that’ll get you killed if I’m not around. It won’t be your obedience, or how well you grovel, or even whether he wants to fuck you and can’t. At some point, you’ll react on instinct, and your instincts are all wrong for survival there. You'll make the tiniest move to defend yourself, and he’ll see it, and then there’s no telling what he’ll do to you.”

“We’ve been steadily narrowing down the amount of options we know of for Loche’s hiding place. A week, at most. I can’t train myself out of that in a week.” Uhura eyed Anne with a strange kind of grateful suspicion. “So that’s why you were so insistent on coming. I was wondering, you know. Risking my neck for a good cause is just part of being in Starfleet.” Her expression slowly faded into something more like sympathy. “So you learned the hard way to let it happen, huh?”

Awkwardly, Anne tried to explain without acknowledging that sympathy. “It helped that I was never much of a fighter to begin with. I prefer to run. The only reason I even learned to shoot was because I wrote about guns so often. Then when I was there, Loche made me use the knives. I got good at that.” Anne nibbled on a bit of the biscuit she’d crumbled and changed the subject slightly. “You can’t protect me, and you shouldn’t try. I do have some limited control over what happens to me. Not much, but a little. Enough, I think.” She picked up her teacup, meaning to take a sip.

A hand suddenly landed on her shoulder. Talking about all of this had brought it up near the surface; she thought her eyes may have widened a touch, but that was it. The tea didn’t jostle; she even finished sipping it without a pause. Kirk looked down at her, his eyebrows raised. “Huh. And you were so jumpy when you first came on board. Work best under pressure, do you?”

“How did you guess?” Anne asked dryly, waiting for her heart rate to slow. She wondered if she could even begin to explain how it felt to be suddenly disoriented and told that you were safe, to realize that you finally had the option of self-defense and not to need it, and to have every self-preservation instinct you’d struggled to silence come roaring awake all at once. She decided if she ever did explain it, it would have to be in writing. If she could write.

“Well, I hate to break things up, ladies, but there’s only about two minutes left until we have to brief Mr. Scott.” Kirk sighed and circled around the end of the couch, grabbing a biscuit from the plate. “He’s not going to be happy,” he said as he flopped down beside Anne and propped his feet up on the table.

“Maybe you should make it a formal briefing,” Uhura said.

“He’d still tell me to take a hike, he’d just be more formal about it.” Kirk shook his head. “No point. I’m hoping that with you two looking all defenseless at him he caves quickly.” Snagging Anne’s teacup from her hand, he dunked his biscuit in it and took a bite.

A look of fond exasperation flitted through Uhura’s eyes and disappeared. “Did you just miss that entire talk because the whole problem is that I’m not defenseless and I know it,” she said, sounding irritated. Anne knew better. There was a wealth of affection there, and trust, and shared history. She felt mildly envious, not of Uhura, but of that history.

“Nah, I heard more than I wanted to. You can try pretending for him, though. It’ll be good practice.” As if on cue, the door chime rang. “C’mon in,” Kirk said.

Mr. Scott stepped through the door. “Ye wanted tae see me, Capt-- Oh, hello Lieutenant.” He paused. “Hello, lass.” He seemed a bit perplexed by the situation, glancing from Uhura’s uniform to Kirk and Anne’s casual clothes.

“Please do sit down, Mr. Scott. Would you like some tea?” Anne offered, standing up to get another teacup.

“Er, don’t mind if I do.” Scotty glanced around, then gingerly settled himself on the unoccupied end of the curved couch they were all on, across from Kirk. Anne had seen his eyes catch on the scar showing above the neckline of her dress, and then again on the fresh scar peeking beneath the hem of her skirt before sliding self-consciously away.

Without waiting for Kirk to move his legs, Anne pressed her shin against them and shoved, knocking them off the table; he merely held her teacup up so that it wouldn’t slosh and moved his legs back once she had passed. “We have a plan, Scotty, and you’re not going to like it,” Kirk said.

A few moments later, Anne was pouring tea and listening to Mr. Scott sputter protestations while Kirk made noncommittal noises. “...can ye expect tae send them in defenseless and wi’ the ship who knows where? Especially intae the den o’that, that animal?” He looked to Uhura. “What does Spock say about this? He canna be fond of it, not wi’ ye involved. He may be a Vulcan bastard, but he’s no’ a heartless bastard.”

“Spock understands. The base is well-defended, and if we were to take it in a frontal assault, there would be casualties. He suggested infiltration in the first place.” Uhura lifted her chin. “We’re going, Scotty. With or without you. If it can’t be you, then it’ll be him.”

“And who’d believe him?” Scotty demanded, then quickly backpedaled. “This is a terrible business, Captain.”

Kirk’s voice was suddenly hard. Anne had to stop herself from flinching away from him, so unaccustomed was she to hearing him sound that cold. “No. That it happened at all is a terrible business. That it’s gone this long without being stopped is a terrible business. I know this isn’t the way we normally do things, but if the way we normally do things is going to end in preventable losses, it needs to change, because this has to end.”

Anne took that opportunity to hand Mr. Scott his teacup. He didn’t grab it at first, still watching Kirk, but then his hands closed around the saucer and he looked at Anne. “Ye’ve been awful quiet, lassie.” He very obviously seemed to think that Anne would be more on his side of the deal.

“Don’t look at me,” she said mildly. “I’m going along to protect you two. I’ve been through it before and come out alive. I can heal, given enough time.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Kirk, whose lips thinned, but he nodded to her anyway. He would come for her. She didn’t need him to say it, but it was still good to have the reassurance.

Scotty watched the exchange wordlessly, then remembered to drink his tea. “It seems wrong to let a wee slip of a thing like ye take point for a grown man like meself.” He looked over at Uhura. “And it seems wrong to put a friend in a position where she canna defend herself from these animals.”

“There is no good solution, Scotty,” Kirk said, sounding tired. “I’ve been doing my share of going over it too, looking for ways around it. But with what we know, and what we are finding out every day, a frontal assault will end up either in avoidable deaths, or a siege situation that helps no one, or both. If we get there and find out that’s not the case, I’ll be overjoyed. But if not, better to get it done quietly, quickly, and with a minimum of fuss. You’re the best chance we have of disabling their systems within a couple of days, Uhura’s the best cover for you, and Anne’s the best distraction.”

Snagging her teacup back from Kirk, Anne poured herself some more tea while Scotty spoke. “Then ye’ll have to excuse myself and my colleagues from normal duty so they can familiarize themselves with the Orion runabout controls. Uhura, ye’ll be fine with a few days. Hardesty, ye’ll be wi’ me until I know ye can fly the thing if something goes sideways.” She nodded, and Scotty continued. “I’ve a fair idea what we can bring in and what will look suspicious. I’ll get Keenser disguising some o’ the more questionable items. Have ye given any thought to magnetic suppression flooding, Captain? That magnetic field will play havoc wi’ the transporters unless we clear spots for them to work.”

“I was waiting for your input, Scotty. Tell me what you’ve got.”

There was some technical discussion then that Anne could only barely follow once it got past the broad strokes, but she understood those well enough. Scotty could set up interference to damp down and compensate for the magnetic field in order to beam squads in to the different Sections. Anne put in what information she could remember, using the holo to sketch what she had seen of floors and layouts. It was getting easier to selectively access memories, pushing traumatic parts of recollections to the side while she had a function to perform. She had the feeling, however, that she would pay for it later on.

In the meantime, Uhura and Scotty worked out a transmission scheme that would give Kirk updates on their status with a minimal chance of Uhura getting caught in the act of actually sending the signal. Kirk discussed contacting the Farragut-A, and precautions to make sure the message, if it was intercepted, could not be easily decrypted. The strategy session was winding down when Anne raised the possibility of what would happen if one of them was subjected to torture.

Discussion ground to a halt. Everyone else had seemed to assume that whatever happened, they would be able to rescue each other in time.

“We get you out of there before that happens. This is a gamble, but I’m not about to send you in there without some kind of assurance that you’ll be able to protect each other,” Kirk said. “Just stay close to Uhura. She’ll--”

“And if it happens right away, immediately, before we have any of the fields set up or any way to get us out of there?” It seemed… odd, to her, that he could completely overlook something this severe. That all three of them could just carry on as if there was no question, as if there was no chance they could be stuck there alone, with no way out. “They can cut us off. Uhura’s the only one who can send you messages. It’s not an unreasonable question.”

“No. It’s not.” Uhura looked grim. 

“All right. What kind of assurance do you need? We can plan for it. We’ll build it right in,” Kirk said, leaning back, looking at her.

The sick, sinking feeling in her stomach told her what she needed to know already, and as Anne tried to find a way around the problem that didn’t end up in loss of life, she felt the blood drain from her face. She couldn’t back out, not if it meant Uhura and Scotty might come under the full focus of Loche’s… curiosity. Any wasted time at all could result in one little leak that would sink the whole plan… and if someone had already infiltrated the base, they would end up dead just for security’s sake. And if Loche decided he didn’t trust her and wanted some fun with her, could she trust herself not to give it all up?

What would be worse, letting the crew walk into danger by telling Loche, or…?

“A final friend would be best,” Anne said, trying to calm herself, watching her hands smooth her skirt of wrinkles. The whole idea frightened her… but the thought of giving Jim and the entire ship up to save her own skin made her feel sick in a way that felt entirely too familiar, and that she didn't want to remember. Besides, she could probably just endure, as long as she knew she had that final way out.

“That’s not something regular shipboard crew, even officers, generally get,” Uhura said gently, once it became clear that Kirk wasn’t going to speak.

Mr. Scott remained silent.

Anne leaned forward and poured herself some more tea. The spout of the teapot chattered against the rim of her cup.

Even so, it took a long time for Kirk to answer. “Starfleet’s position has always been that those are too easily triggered when unnecessary.”

Anne looked back at him, trying to mask her nausea behind determination. Her skin felt like it was about to crawl off her body and she could feel her memories burning beneath the surface of her mind. “I understand, but that doesn’t make it unreasonable.” Very carefully, she sipped her tea.

Kirk’s eyes were guarded, probably the most closed-off she’d ever seen him. “Is this a question of trust?”

“Yes,” Anne said. “ _Your_ trust in _me_.” Kirk remained silent, watching her-- very obviously, to her eyes, upset by even the question. His father, of course. Pushing aside the sickness only resulted in a kind of heartsickness that she knew was her own fault, for what she was about to say. The one thing he couldn’t gamble with. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important to me to have some way of protecting your ship from me, in case I break.” She forced a smile, remembering one of the classics. “‘All flesh is weak,’ but if I know that I _can_ escape, then even if things do go wrong, I may not have to.”

She could see the schism in his eyes, the part of him that wanted desperately to believe that what she had said was not a possibility fighting against the more practical part of him that knew that with the right drugs or enough pain anyone could crack, and that his ship and crew would be the ones to suffer if she did. “I… I’ll consider my options.”

Uhura set her teacup down on the table. “I think we’ve covered everything we can tonight.”

“Right,” Scotty said, obviously eager to be out of the room and away from the tension. “I’ve got to get to work on those suppression fields. We’ll see ye at 0700, Uhura, Hardesty. G’devening, Captain.” He too set down his teacup, standing up and making for the door at Kirk’s dismissing wave.

After the door slid shut behind him, Uhura turned her attention back to the two of them. “Are you two going to be all right?” she asked, her gaze flicking from Anne to Kirk and back. “Or are you going to start yelling the moment I leave?”

Some of the tension dissipated then. “Oh god, I hope not,” Anne said fervently, followed by Kirk’s brief, soundless, almost humorless laugh.

“No. We’ll be all right, Nyota.” He had thawed a little, and he took his feet off the table, sitting up. “Thanks.”

Uhura nodded, then risked a little smile. “Hate to see you back with the farm animals.”

There was obviously some sort of joke there that Anne was missing, because that surprised an actual laugh from him. “All right. We’ll be fine.”

Uhura stood, and Anne nodded her farewell before the woman left. As soon as the door shut behind her, she glanced warily at Kirk.

Shaking his head, he grabbed her teacup from her hand and dunked another biscuit in it. “Bones was right. I should have kept my distance.” Strangely, he didn’t seem the least bit resentful or upset about it.

“Do you regret not following his advice?” Anne asked. She couldn’t tell what expression she was wearing but she heard the calm detachment in her voice.

Kirk heard it too; his eyes flicked up to her face, surprised, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against him. “I probably should, but no.”

Anne felt herself heave a sigh of relief, relaxing into him. As long as he wasn’t angry with her, she could forget all of this. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Monday [on my tumblr](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/), there will be a deleted scene that comes after this chapter :D


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: discussion of abuse and suicide.

Anne had stayed the night again. It just seemed pointless for her to go back to her quarters, even though the tension between them was still present, still throwing them both off. Kirk hadn’t known quite what to do; he’d never been in a position where he had to figure out whether to give his lover permission to kill herself. Not just permission, but the means to go through with it. His mind kept returning to that, gnawing at it like a dog with a bone. Conversation between them had been sparse, a little stilted, and he found himself chafing at the contrast to how easy they usually were with each other.  


She’d seemed almost… apologetic. As if the idea of suicide were something she couldn’t help, something she couldn’t control, while Kirk saw it as the opposite.

As it got later, Anne had come to sit snugged up against him, her leg thrown over his and her head nestled on his chest, as if she needed the reassurance of closeness to talk about it. He could tell she wasn’t happy about this either. “I almost wish I hadn’t said anything,” she’d said. “I know it touches on some painful memories for you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but… if it means keeping you safe…”

He’d felt his resistance melt then. She hadn’t done it blindly, carelessly stepping on his issues with self-sacrifice and the way his father had died. She’d known, and she’d felt it important enough to mention anyway. Wrapping an arm around her, he’d sighed. “I’m glad I don’t have to explain. I do need to think about this. Anne… I don’t know. I don’t know if I can allow it.” One side of him argued that he had done the same once, that he’d sacrificed himself for the sake of his ship… and the other side stubbornly refused to believe that there was a situation where he couldn’t get to her in time.

She’d lifted her head then, her eyes the impenetrable grey of London fog. “You know how I feel. I only want to protect you… and your wife.” Her mouth had curved in an ironic little grin.

He had known what she meant immediately, his grin answering hers in tone. “I’ve lost her before. I think I mentioned that. It’s not an experience I want to repeat if I can help it.”

He saw a tinge of sadness in those misty grey eyes. “Take your time and figure it out. I’ve told you what I think is best.”

Kirk had kissed her then, partly because he wanted to chase away the sadness in her eyes, partly because he didn’t want to keep talking about it. And despite the tension, that kiss had developed into a full-scale assault on each other, a hungry, devouring lust that left them sticky and sweaty, shaking and breathless and fulfilled. It had been harder than ever to control himself, to make sure he didn’t do all of the things he wanted to do, to keep himself restrained so that she could be comfortable. And, as usual, the restraint just heightened the pleasure they’d gained from each other.

After they’d showered and collapsed on his bed, Anne had snuggled up against him, her back to his chest and her ass pressing lushly against his cock. It was a sort of compliment; she trusted him enough to know that she could tempt him, a little anyway, and he wouldn't let that temptation lure him into anything she didn't wholeheartedly want. Tease. Kirk had wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin. Despite the tension, he didn’t want to let go of her.

Sometime in the middle of the night, she cried out in her sleep, loud enough to wake Kirk. “Anne,” he murmured, then again, louder. The nightmares were a worrying development.

She came awake with a start, and he could feel the tension gripping her, her heart racing, her panting breaths. “Jim,” she gasped, and he tightened his arms around her.

How could he send her back into that nightmare? He asked it of himself over and over while he soothed her. How could he let her go? How could he let her protect his ship, his crew, with her life? The questions were eating at him, devouring his mind. By the time she was asleep again, he was wide awake, frustrated and angry. Not at her, but at the circumstances, at his own inability to think his way through them. After he was very sure she wouldn’t wake, he carefully slipped out of bed, snatching up some clothes and walking out to his desk. He ordered the door to hold half open, so that he’d hear her if she cried out again, and flipped on the screen on the desk, meaning to lose himself in work.

When he saw the time, however, he realized that it would be morning already in Iowa, and there was one person he knew who had been in a similar situation. He punched in the comm code and waited.

She smiled as she answered the call. “Jim! It’s good to hear from you. You’re always so busy.” There was no reprimand in her voice, only a loving acknowledgment of his position. She was Starfleet too. She understood.

“Hey, mom. How’s life on the ground?”

They made small talk for a while, Kirk answering her questions about Yorktown and the new Enterprise, asking her about her work at the shipyard and new designs that were coming out. Underneath it, there was a faint undercurrent of tension. There always was. He wasn’t sure if it was him who couldn’t forgive her, or her who couldn’t forgive herself for inflicting his stepfather on him and his older brother, but it was a wound that had never quite healed properly, especially since his brother had run away. Still, he loved her, and he knew she loved him.

Maybe it was because of that tension that she eventually asked him, “You don’t usually call just to chat. What’s going on? Is there something I can do for you?”

Kirk found himself reluctant to answer. He wasn’t even sure how to put it. But she knew something was wrong, so he had to say something. “I’m… I have to make a decision, and I don’t know what to do.” She waited patiently for him to figure out how to put it, how best to ask. “If you had known there was a chance-- not a certainty, just a chance of what happened to Dad… If you’d known that going in, and known how many people he would save doing it, would you have let him go?”

Winona Kirk closed her eyes, a pained, bittersweet smile on her lips. “You really don’t ask the easy ones, do you, Jim?” She sighed, opening her eyes and looking down, that smile still lingering. “I’ve thought about this so many times. If I had known… god, my heart says I’d never have let him go. But could I let eight hundred people die, including myself and you if he hadn’t been there?” She shook her head. “No. What’s this about, Jim?” She paused briefly, looking curious. “Is there… are you…”

He couldn’t help an embarrassed, wry grin. He knew what she was trying to ask. “Don’t get your hopes up. Yeah, there’s someone, but she’s not Starfleet, so… I don’t know what’s going to happen. We’ll probably split. We’ve talked about it.” Sort of. Once.

She shook her head gently, that bittersweet smile returning. “And that’s on top of the rest, huh? I’m sorry, hon. That’s hard to deal with all on its own.” After a moment, she added, “I can guess that you can’t tell me most of the circumstances around this. But if I could prevent George from going… I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Not if it had that price. At the same time, if there was anything else I could do to make sure he got out alive, I would do it. Anything at all.” 

They were both silent while Kirk digested this. She was right; whether Anne went didn’t necessitate her breaking, and her breaking didn’t necessitate that the ship and the crew would pay the price. There were other things he could do to ensure both her safety and the safety of the Enterprise. A beacon, maybe, that she could use to warn him if she was in trouble-- well, more severe trouble-- so that they weren’t taken by surprise. It could even be installed in place of the final friend. If Scotty could miniaturize one of the pattern enhancers, they might be able to get her out before anything went critical-- it would give up the game, but at that point, she would have given it up anyway. Something like that. There were other options. Kirk felt the schism in his mind ease, his brain finally getting past the shadow of his father’s death.

His mom must have seen him relax, because she smiled. “What’s she like?” she asked, half teasing, not really expecting an answer.

Kirk surprised himself by wanting to answer. “Her name’s Anne. She’s short. Mean. A bit of a hell-raiser.” He felt himself grin. “When she looks at people, she sees them as people. There’s a word for that, but I forget what it is-- it means looking at people and knowing they have full lives and self-awareness and all that. Whatever that word is, she has it all the time. She writes books.” Kirk laughed, shaking his head. “I told you to read one of them once, actually. That western one, with the group of cowboys that went on the expedition to those old mines--”

“ _That_ one?” his mom, asked, surprised. “She wrote that? That was really good. I read the rest of them after that.” She looked thoughtful. “So she’s smart, too. Of course. You’d never settle for someone who couldn’t think on your level.”

“Yeah.” He felt awkward; his mother had known about Carol, but it had been an offhand thing, not this strange, too-serious conversation. “Well, anyway, she was in a bad situation and I got her out of it… but she’s insisting on going back into it to try to stop it. And it’s really bad. She’s… well, she’s not quite…” He sighed. “I don’t know, mom. She’s hurt. She needs time to recover and she doesn’t have it. I’m worried that she’ll… That she won’t come back the same, or at all.”

“Well, she’s got something else in common with you, and your father. Neither of you could sit still when you thought you had a chance of fixing something, or saving someone.” Kirk felt himself grimace, and his mom gave him a sympathetic look. “Anyway, do whatever you can to get her out safely. And…” She paused, searching for words. “Don’t worry about whether you split up or not. The important thing is that you--”

“Jim? Is something wrong?” Anne asked softly from the doorway.

His mom didn’t hear her; she continued, “take every chance you can to enjoy what you have while you have it. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” She gave him that bittersweet smile again. “Trust me.”

Kirk held up a hand, motioning for his mother to wait, and looked over at Anne. The cool grey mist of her eyes was troubled with worry. She didn’t look frightened, so it hadn’t been a nightmare, but… his mom was right. He had to enjoy what he had while he had it. This wasn’t going to last forever. “I’ll be right there, Anne. Everything’s fine.” She nodded, her worry easing, and disappeared back into the bedroom.

His mom was smiling a little, shaking her head. “Go on, hon. I love you, and I miss you. We’ll talk once all this is over.” She paused, and then added, “Tell her I liked her books.”

“I will. Love you, mom.” He gave her a grin and blanked the screen.

His mind easier, he stood up from the desk. They still had a couple hours to sleep. As he crossed the room, he pulled off his clothes, dropping them in a heap by the bed before he slid under the covers, feeling Anne curl up against him. “I couldn’t sleep, so I called my mom,” he said. “She said to say she likes your books.”

Anne stilled for a moment, surprised, and then laughed quietly, not entirely happily. “So this is that serious, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kirk answered. There really wasn’t anything else to say about it.

Laying a soft kiss on his chest, Anne settled further against him, the arm thrown across him squeezing gently. “When you talk to your mom next, tell her I said thanks.” She paused, then added, “I… I don’t talk to my family.”

He’d thought so. She’d never mentioned them, and Kirk knew enough about how his stepfather had affected him to recognize the same kind of thing in Anne. “You don’t have to explain it. I think I get it.” He felt her lips again, another brief brush of a kiss. “Hey.”

“Hey what?” Anne asked.

“You’re spending all your time here anyway. If you want to move the rest of your stuff here, that’s fine by me. I’ll figure something out so you can have free access.” The offer was spur-of-the-moment, but it felt right. She should be here with him. They should take the time they had and use it as best they could, before it ran out. It would be difficult, but he thought he could lock everything so that she couldn’t access anything sensitive. Probably. Not that he was worried about her, but Starfleet wouldn’t look kindly on it if he didn't. 

Anne thought about this for a while, and her silence made him a little nervous, but that nervousness dissipated when she spoke. “When we get back to Yorktown, let’s rent a place, an apartment or something. Something with a balcony where I can have plants and a garage for your motorcycle.” She laughed quietly. “Even if it’s just for a couple weeks, we might as well go all in while we can, right?”

“Might as well,” he answered, feeling himself grin slowly. “Need help getting your things up here?”

“I have most of them here already,” she laughed. “Just the art and that’s it. But I’d like you to come with me, if you can.”

“Sure. After shift tomorrow. Today. Whatever. I’ll meet you there.” He carefully pulled her up, tipping her chin up so that he could kiss her, and she responded eagerly, melting against his side, her lips and tongue tangling with his. It felt right. Lying beside her at night felt right. Knowing she would be there when he finished his shifts, knowing they’d have dinner together, knowing she’d be lying on the couch studying while he finished his daily reports, knowing there would be more opportunities for popcorn fights and even awkward races to put on clothing while someone waited to come in… again, it was weirdly domestic in a way that he liked, the way that he’d envied Sulu for. He almost couldn’t believe it was happening, let alone so quickly. When the kiss broke, he asked, “Are we getting tame, Anne?”

She laughed and hugged him. “No. Even wild animals pair off sometimes. We’ll just be wild together for a while.”

Her answer made him laugh. It was a good way to put it. “I am going to be in so much trouble over this. You have no idea. Bones is going to kill me.”

Anne snickered, “You can let me deal with him and Dr. Hayes if you want. Better yet, tell them while I’m standing there with you and I’ll yell back at them over it.”

The idea of her taking Bones and Hayes to task was pretty damn funny. “Sounds like a plan. We’ll break it to them tomorrow before your session with Spock.” He kissed the top of her head. “Make sure you’re feeling especially tiger-ish, I guess. But I’m not going to lift the weapons ban.”

Anne laughed, immediately recognising his reference to the conversation they’d had about exes. “Grr,” she said, playfully digging her fingernails into his side. Kirk held her as their humor eventually faded into sleepiness and wondered how it could possibly be this easy to be with her. The idea that it would be over soon made it work somehow. But he couldn’t deny to himself that he’d enjoy what they had while they had it. Hell, he was grateful for this brief chance, even if he never said it out loud.


	32. Chapter 32

Morning came too early for Anne. Her nights were getting more and more turbulent, full of half-imagined, half-remembered terrors. Jim had woken her from them, and that had given her a respite, but they always came creeping back. When she woke, however, she woke at the same time as him for the first time, and her fatigue ebbed away as she shared the shower with him, teasing just a little and flicking water at each other. **  
**

It was… odd. It felt good to wake with him, to see him sleepily brushing his teeth, to punch in an order for some coffee and muffins and take a few moments to sit at the dining table talking about the upcoming day. It should have been strange. It should have felt wrong. Anne had never been the type to hang around in the morning, or to let her lovers hang around. This felt so natural, though, that it was hard to imagine giving her usual distant goodbye. Before they left for their respective shifts, he’d stopped her at the door, pulling her close. His mouth tasted of the chocolate chip muffins she’d ordered. She’d felt herself heating, felt her desire flaring high, and clung to him a little longer than she should have.

When they finally pulled apart, he’d laughed. “We’d better be careful with this. I’ve got a ship to run, here.”

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting you,” Anne had said, watching him from under lowered lashes. “It’ll give us something to look forward to.”

“Trust me, I don’t need the reminder.” Jim’s laughter had subsided into a crooked grin. “But I'm definitely not gonna say no.”

It had been hard to pull away from him. “I’ll see you at 1315 for the meld,” she’d said. “Then after shift we’ll grab my stuff and hit the gym. But I’m going to spend that whole time making you wish we weren’t in public.” She’d given him a flirtatious little smile.

He’d looked pleasantly frustrated. “I _will_ make us late if you keep teasing me,” he’d said, pulling her back against him.

Gratified by his reaction, Anne had giggled and pushed away. She felt almost like a teenager again, caught up in first explorations and infatuations. “Nope. We’re grown adults and have to act like it, at least until after our shift.”

He’d sighed, his arms dropping. “Fine, we’ll be sensible. This time.”

Before they parted in the hall, Anne had teasingly said, “Be good.” Jim had flashed her a look that promised the most pleasant kind of revenge.

She reported to the shuttle bay, where a spiky,dangerous-looking ship of unfamiliar make was sitting in a double-sized hangar. This would be their runabout, then. Kirk had already told her that it was owned by the Federation and that he’d requisitioned it for scouting, so that they didn’t have to bring the Enterprise around before they needed to. Anne guessed he’d been in similar situations often enough that he already knew the drill.

Scotty poked his head out of the open hatch on the side. “Come on, lass. Inside.” He seemed grumpy. Anne felt her surety fade just a little. What was she doing anyway?

By the time Uhura arrived, Anne was already immersed in explanations, only half of which made sense. The Orion control layout was, well, alien; she’d seen the controls on the Sorte many times, but never been allowed to touch them. Along with the fact that she had no other flight experience, Mr. Scott may as well have been speaking Gorn for all she understood sometimes. At least they agreed on one thing: no pretending she got it when she didn’t. “No. Stop. I don’t understand how you’re calculating the trajectory.”

“Ye’re pulling the variables from the weight of the ship, the velocity, the-- Good to see you, Uhura.” Mr. Scott seemed relieved. “Have a seat and ye can follow along, maybe explain some things a little better than I can.” He gestured to the controls. “It’s no’ a good starter vehicle as it is, and Hardesty’s got about as much knowledge of flight as a kitten, that being they can jump a ways and nothing else.”

Uhura sat down beside Anne then, but before Scott could start in again, she said, “I need to talk to you,” giving Anne a coolly appraising look.

Anne knew this was about the thing she hadn’t wanted to explain in front of Kirk. She smiled, as if Uhura had given her a compliment. “Mr. Scott doesn’t need to hear the girl talk. Maybe when we break for lunch?”

“All right,” Uhura said, her demeanor also becoming friendlier. Anne couldn’t tell if Uhura was just following her lead, or if she’d actually thawed that fast. “Where were you at, Scotty?”

The lesson became much easier with Uhura translating between her and Mr. Scott. Part of it was just that his vocabulary was so specialized that she couldn’t follow what he was saying sometimes. Part of it was that she wasn’t mathematically up to some of the calculations. By the time lunch rolled around, however, she was starting to see the principles behind the math the way she was with the Enterprise. It was still a long way from understanding, but it was a start.

At 1215, Uhura called a halt. “I have to get back to the bridge, and Hardesty will have her session in the med bay to get to. This is probably a good place to stop for the day.” She gave Scott a little smile. “How are you doing with this? We might as well be honest with each other about it.”

It took a moment for Mr. Scott to answer. “I dinna like it, but… if it has to happen, I’d rather it be me than anyone else. I can do the most damage quickest.” He gave them a half-grin. “I’ll be workin’ on it in my spare time.”

Uhura glanced over at Anne. “And you? Can you handle it?”

Shrugging, Anne said, “I’m just the distraction. I don’t need to do anything but exist. If you’re asking whether I think Loche will figure out something’s wrong, I don’t think so. But I can’t be absolutely certain. He’s… intelligent.” Anne looked Uhura over. “And you? You might not have to deal with it personally, but you’re probably going to see some awful things.”

Uhura nodded. “I understand that.” She glanced at Scott. “Scotty, can you work up a way for Anne and I to pass messages that won’t be easy to find? We might need it.”

Mr. Scott looked a little ill. “I’ll get Keenser on it. He’s good wi’ that sort of thing.”

“You know you can’t afford to be too upset by what happens with Uhura and I, right?” Anne asked calmly, feeling like she should feel guilty. He didn't need to know some things.“If you are, it’ll give us all up.”

Mr. Scott nodded, his eyes grave. “I’ll try my best. I’m no’ much of an actor.”

“You don’t need to act,” Uhura said. “Just pretend you don’t care.”

Anne hid a smile. She knew what Uhura had done-- taken the word he’d had a problem with and made it into different ones that seemed simpler, to make him more comfortable. It was still the same thing. “Well, we’d better get going. Tomorrow, 0700, Mr. Scott?”

“We’ll see ye then, lass.” He smiled briefly at them, and then turned his attention back to the displays.

They made it all the way out into the hall before Uhura rounded on her. “What is it? What don’t you want them knowing?” Her eyes flashed angrily, and Anne had to stop herself from flinching away.

Anne glanced around, looking for somewhere private to talk. There really weren’t many places on the Enterprise that weren’t populated. “Come with me. I’ll tell you everything.” Anne started to walk towards the repairs room she’d been working in when she’d first been on the Enterprise. Hardly anyone ever went in there, and it was close.

Uhura followed her, and after the door slid shut behind them, she looked at Anne expectantly. “Say it.”

“The first thing Loche is going to do when he sees me is beat the shit out of me. When I found out Loche was betting me, I rigged that dom-jot game so Tarenn would win. He probably knows that by now.” Anne bit her lip, then made herself continue. “The Captain and Mr. Scott don’t need to know until it’s too late to turn back. It’ll only give them unnecessary doubts.”

Uhura sighed, folding her arms and leaning against one of the racks. “I thought it might be something like that. And you expect me not to tell them.”

“Would it help anything?” Anne asked. “Do you really think telling them would make their jobs any easier?”

Uhura watched her closely for a moment, then pressed her lips together in dissatisfaction. “So why tell me then?”

“I don’t know,” Anne answered, moving to lean on the table. “I guess because I thought you could handle it. Because you’ll need to get used to the idea.” Anne half-laughed in frustration. “Maybe because you’re a woman.”

“You think that makes a difference to me?” Uhura asked, frowning.

“I don’t know,” Anne said again. “Does it matter? You know now. I told you. I’m expecting it. I’m walking into it with my eyes open.” She huffed a small, humorless laugh. “Are you going to tell them?”

Uhura watched her silently, evaluating her, measuring her up. Finally, she said, “No. I won’t tell them. But Spock will know once you mind meld. It’ll be in the front of your mind.”

Merde. “So tell him before then,” Anne said. There was really no other choice. “If you think he can handle it and he won’t spill it to the others.”

Uhura frowned again. “I don’t like that you’re forcing me into deceiving my Captain and my colleagues.”

Anne paused, then folded her arms over her stomach and looked away. “I didn’t think of it that way. I’m sorry. Truly. But I was just trying to... I just wanted to warn you.” She looked back at Uhura. “I need to do this. I _can_ do this. I can make sure the whole thing gets taken down. What’s another few days of hell compared to that? You’ll be there. Mr. Scott will be working to take down all the defenses. And Jim will come for us as soon as we have everything in place. It’ll all come down.” She smiled, but she knew it wasn’t a happy smile. “That’s worth a little hell.”

“I get it, I really do. I don’t like it, though.” Uhura’s frown had faded somewhat.

“I’m sorry. If it helps, I did plan to tell them… once we were on the runabout and on the way to the asteroid base.” Anne offered a hesitant little grin. “I was going to be honest. Just… later.”

It got the reaction she had wanted. Uhura shook her head, laughing quietly. “All right. We’ll do this part your way.” Uhura pinned Anne with a stern gaze. “But for the rest of the mission, I’m the one calling the shots. If I give an order, you’re going to follow it.”

Anne nodded grudgingly. If that was what had to happen… “I can do that.” Unfolding her arms, she braced them on the table. ”It’s a relief to have someone to be honest with.” She pressed her lips together. Hiding things from Jim didn't feel right.

“ _You_ made that decision.” Uhura straightened. “I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be back on the bridge soon, and I have to find time to tell Spock.”

Anne stood away from the table. “Thanks for talking to me before you said anything to the others. I appreciate it.”

Uhura nodded sharply and left the room. Anne stood for a while in silence, thinking. It was easier to consider this as a series of steps she had to follow, only looking at the next step instead of trying to think of the whole thing at once. And her next step was the mind meld. She knew she was going to be in for it today; the memories had been getting worse and worse.

She didn’t want to relive the hard ones, but there was no alternative.

Anne made herself leave the room and start on her way toward the med bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, a romance passed the Bechdel test. Not bragging, just thought it was funny for a romance :D
> 
> I have been posting fic from other fandoms [on my tumblr](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/), but I think I'm going to start posting it here as well. If you're interested in Shoujo Kakumei Utena or in Final Fantasy XII, I'll start posting other stuff on Mondays.


	33. Chapter 33

As it got closer to 1300, Kirk decided he needed to talk to Spock, alone. He needed an outside point of view and since Spock had mind melded with Anne, he might have insight that Kirk didn't. At 1245, Kirk turned the conn over to Sulu, and made his way to Spock’s quarters. **  
**

“You are early,” Spock said once Kirk had stepped inside. “Is something wrong?”

Kirk had a seat at the table, across from Spock. “Did Uhura tell you what happened last night when we were in conference about the mission?”

Spock regarded him evenly. “She mentioned it but did not elaborate.”

“Anne asked for a suicide option, in case Loche is close to finding out about us.” Kirk’s mouth twisted, and he glanced over at Spock’s bust of Shariel, the Vulcan god of death. “I can’t give her that. I understand why she wants it, but… it’s unacceptable. What I can do is figure out alternatives. Is there anything you can suggest?”

Spock remained silent for some time, thinking. “I would assume you have already come up with some options that are not to your liking.”

“Yeah. Maybe some sort of beacon she can use to alert us that she’s in trouble, or a pattern enhancer so that we can beam her out. Those won’t work if she’s drugged, though.” Kirk laced his fingers together on the table, staring at them.

“Perhaps a device to monitor her brain activity,” Spock suggested. “An involuntary trigger, one that will signal us if it becomes abnormal. We currently have monitors for vital signs; perhaps they could be modified to also register specific cerebral activity.”

“It would have to be miniaturized to conceal it in the phony insulin regulator,” Kirk said, frowning. “Scotty’s already overloaded trying to teach Anne to fly the runabout and also working on concealing the equipment we need to beam the teams in and disable the shields.”

“Mr. Chekov and I will work on modifying subcutaneous monitors for the away team as a whole,” Spock said. “It would give me a measure of added security as to Lieutenant Uhura’s safety if she also was equipped with a monitor.”

“Tracking device won’t work this time, huh?” Kirk asked, remembering Uhura’s necklace with a little grin.

“It will not,” Spock said evenly. “The magnetic distortion will be too strong.”

There was a short silence as Kirk thought about the position both he and Spock found themselves in. The difference was that Anne was going to take the brunt of the work of distracting Loche, and Kirk knew that would be a slice of hell.

Finally, he asked, “Spock, is Anne stable enough for this? If Loche puts pressure on her, can she take it?”

Spock considered him for a moment. “Are you asking as the Captain, or are you asking because of your association with her?”

Kirk had to think for a moment. “Both… but as the Captain first.”

“Then I will answer the Captain first.” Spock took a moment to choose his words. “Ms. Hardesty has an agile mind and a gift for fictions. It is unlikely that her captor will realize her purpose; she is determined to keep him occupied, one way or another.” He paused, distaste faintly evident on his features, not for Anne, but for Loche. “However, it is possible that he will see through the fiction. Everything I have seen of him indicates that he is very intelligent, and cruel as well. If he does realize there is a plot against him, he will be merciless, and her mind is still attempting to heal.”

Frowning, Kirk leaned back in his chair. “So you’re saying if he hits the jackpot, she’ll definitely break.”

“Yes.” Spock’s eyebrows drew together in something that could almost be called a frown. “There is no way to prevent it. She has rigidly compartmentalized her mind as a reaction to her past, both this and earlier events, but those compartments are breaking down on their own. Your presence has shored them up for the moment, but without you, she will need to retreat into her own mind, and it is neither pleasant nor restorative.” Spock paused. “She is aware of the state of degradation in her control and the consequences thereof. As well, her recent experiences with similar situations have caused her to develop strong negative associations with the outcome of such loss of control. I believe this is why she would ask for a final way out.”

“Is there anything we can do to change that?” Kirk asked.

Shaking his head, Spock said, “You are speaking of complex mental constructs that took decades to build, Captain. Dr. Hayes and I will do our best to reinforce her, but we have little time. We have already narrowed the search to five different asteroid belts and the more we delay, the higher the risk of information leaks that would prepare them for our attack.”

“So there’s nothing we can do,” Kirk said, scowling.

“There are… options,” Spock said carefully. “I would rather discuss them with Ms. Hardesty before I bring them to your attention.”

That sounded both interesting and frustrating. Kirk sighed. “All right. Let me know what happens.” He moved to get up from the table.

“Captain, I have not yet addressed your concerns as her companion,” Spock said. “They may be personal, but they are also relevant to the issue at hand.”

Kirk settled back in his seat. “Go on.”

“Ms. Hardesty depends on you for a great deal of her strength of will at this point. She is attempting to use that strength of will to remove some of the dependence rather than relying on your presence and support to bolster her.” The corners of Spock’s lips turned up in something that could almost be a smile. “Paradoxically, your presence helps her to try not to depend on you. It is a pattern of behavior that would be problematic if it became permanent, but as a temporary measure, it is quite effective. The more she knows she can depend on you, the stronger she can be, and the less she needs you.”

A wry smile twisted Kirk’s lips. “She’s moving in with me.”

Spock’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Captain, I will not say this is unwise, as it will have some definite benefits, but it is aberrant behavior for you. Are you certain this is what you want?”

“Yes,” Kirk said. He and Anne fit together too well to question it. “It’s not permanent. We both know that. Makes it easier.”

“That is most… human,” Spock said. “It is not my place to either approve or disapprove of your actions, but I find myself surprised by them.” Spock thought for a moment. “This will be beneficial to both of you in the short term.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Kirk said ironically, but he meant it.

The door chime rang. Spock frowned and said, “Come in.”

Uhura walked in, her eyebrows rising in surprise when she saw Kirk. “Captain. Am I interrupting something?”

Kirk and Spock glanced at each other. “I do not believe so,” Spock answered. “Our discussion was at an end.”

“Right,” Kirk said. “And we have to get to the med bay.”

Uhura nodded. “I need a moment of your time, Mr. Spock. Can you join the Captain in the med bay a bit later than usual?”

Kirk thought a moment, then nodded. “There’s a discussion Anne and I have to have with Bones and Hayes anyway.” He stood. “I’ll see you in the med bay, Spock.” Nodding to Uhura, he said, “Lieutenant,” and left the room.

He met Anne on the way to the med bay and couldn’t help a smile at the sight of her. No matter what she thought, that uniform looked pretty good on her. “Ready for the big fight?” he asked, offering her his arm.

She took it, grinning at him. “I guess we have to be,” she said. “I’ll get it started. Dr. Hayes is mostly concerned about me anyway.”

Both Bones and Hayes were frowning at them as they entered the med bay. Anne lifted her chin, her lips pressed together to stifle her smile. Before either of them could say anything, she dropped the bomb. “You’re going to have to get over it. I’m moving in with him.”

Both doctors stood shocked for a moment, and then a jumble of objections started.

“--superior officer--”

“--unhealthy dependence--”

“--mental stability--”

“--clouded judgment--”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Ethics is going to skin you.” Bones jerked his thumb in the direction of his office. “Jim, we need to talk in private. Now.”

Kirk shook his head. “Bones, this isn’t open for debate. This is a fact.”

Dr. Hayes came forward, visibly damping down her frustration, leaving only concern. Touching Anne’s shoulder, she said, “Anne, you can’t be serious. The power differential alone makes this a terrible idea.”

Anne smiled at her, covering the doctor’s hand with hers. “I know you’re worried. I understand it, but it’s not what you think. And his rank has nothing to do with me.”

“You’re infatuated. This isn’t real, this is just-- just hormones and wishful thinking.” McCoy looked frustrated and unpleasantly surprised. “You’re rushing into this, goddamn it. I should know.”

Kirk sighed. “Does it matter? It’ll be over soon. We both know that. We don’t have a lot of time, so I want to spend it well.”

Anne nodded. “If it seems like we’re rushing, that’s why.”

Fingers tightening on Anne’s shoulder, Dr. Hayes frowned. Kirk absently noted that her frown was as beautiful as her smile. How the hell had McCoy happened across her? “This could be so hurtful for both of you,” she said. “This could blow up in your faces. And what would be the effect on the ship? There’s a reason the Captain doesn’t openly fraternize with the crew, Anne.”

Kirk felt his spine stiffen at the implication. “Nothing and no one comes before the ship and crew, Doctor. Not Starfleet regulations, not Directives, and definitely not a temporary relationship with someone who is only technically a crew member.”

Both Bones and Hayes looked at Anne, expecting her to be hurt. Instead, she looked satisfied, in agreement with him. “I respect that.” She looked up at Kirk and smiled. “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t that kind of person.”

Kirk couldn’t help an answering grin. It was good to know she got it, and she valued it. He banished his smile and looked at Hayes and McCoy. “Look, we understand the limits here. We’ll try our best to stay within those limits, but this is a done deal. The only reason we’re telling you about it is because you’ll need to know.” He looked Bones in the eye. “And because we know you’re our friends.”

Anne broke in. “I’m not giving up the best thing that’s happened to me since all my trouble started. You’re both going to have to accept it.”

Dr. Hayes sighed, slumping and closing her eyes. She lifted her hand from Anne’s shoulder and rubbed her forehead. “Fine. We can pick up the pieces if this blows up.” She scowled, her eyes still closed. “I hate that I have to keep saying that.”

Bones shook his head, obviously too disgusted to continue the argument. “Right. Where the hell is Spock? He should have been here already.”

“Lieutenant Uhura needed to speak to him. He’ll be on his way by now.” Kirk looked down at Anne. “Might as well get ready.”

“Yes,” Anne said, and let go of him to sit on one of the examination tables. “This is probably going to be a bad one,” she murmured, looking up at Kirk.

He walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll be right here.”

“I know,” she said, and her eyes were lit with trust.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence/gore.

This time, the mind meld didn’t start with Spock rifling through her memories. When she started to examine them, he stopped her. His presence indicated a query, as if he needed to conference with her, and Anne paused, receptive. **  
**

Spock pulled up the inference she had made about her treatment once Loche had her, the knowledge that Loche would take out his frustrations on her. Anne acknowledged it and waited for his response. Would he tell the Captain?

After a long time considering, Spock let her know that he would not. It would serve no purpose, and in fact be counterproductive. Their goal was not furthered by speaking up. Anne agreed, relieved, and then went to flip through her memories again, expressing her desire to be done with them.

Spock again stopped her, this time with a strange hesitance, and she felt another query. Again receptive, she waited for his explication.

Instead of the mind to mind communication they were using, this time he gave her a mental situation, an imagined scene, thin and immaterial but there nonetheless. In it, Anne was confronted with Loche. Even knowing that he wasn’t real, even though his eyes weren’t as piercing and his ruthless magnetism was diffuse and weaker, Anne had to force herself into detachment just to face him. As she did, however, she realized that her memories were curiously blanked, as if something had been amputated. She could remember everything about Loche, and everything about her captivity, but there was a large chunk missing, something important…

Where had she been when Scotty had found her?

Who had she been bought from?

How had she gotten from Tarenn’s ship to Scotty’s ownership? Had Tarenn gambled her away?

Anne felt her heart stutter. This was… frightening, but curiously comforting, as if the memories that were missing were gone for a reason, a good one. She didn’t know what it was. She couldn’t know what it was. There was no hint as to what had happened between being owned by Tarenn and now.

The imaginary scene lifted, Loche disappearing, and Anne felt her memories come rushing back like water filling a tide pool. The Enterprise. The trial. Kirk. Most of all, him.

She felt torn. This was perfect. If she didn’t remember anything, Loche couldn’t get anything from her. But… she would have to forget Jim.

Could she bear to do that?

Would her memories come back, or would she have to relearn him?

Spock indicated that her memories would not be gone, only be sealed away, and that he would help her break down the wall after she was safe. That, indeed, the wall was necessarily simpler than the structure of her mind, and that even if he did not help her it would degrade on its own in a very short time.

This was perfect, if only she could handle it. Could she do this if she didn’t know Jim was coming for her?

Anne conveyed to Spock that she would need time to think about it. It was a good plan, but she didn’t know if she could bear going back, unaware that she would soon be rescued. She caught a faint drift of confidence from Spock, as if he knew she could handle it, but reaffirmed her desire for some time. She needed to process.

Agreeing, Spock turned his attention to her memories. They began to work through them, bits and snatches of conversation coming back, snippets of torture at Loche’s hands, and finally settled on one that seemed promising at first skim. Unfortunately, it was also terrifying.

Anne was lying on her side in a pool of blood. It was someone else’s; the body lay next to her. One of the women. Lauren. The woman’s throat was slit wide, gaping open to expose the veins and muscles and tendons beneath the skin. Anne’s cheek was resting in Lauren’s blood, her eyes wide open, staring at the body beside her with horror. There was a knife in her hand. Her heart was pounding and stuttering. Her body was sore, especially her arms. By this time, her scars were entirely healed, but her arm was not yet broken.

Had she done it? 

Loche’s voice came from the other side of the room. “Repeat the access code they gave” he commanded.

A voice replied from the computer. “Sigma sigma nine, eta epsilon two four omicron.”

The contemplative calm of Loche’s voice seemed out of place with the jags of Anne’s fear. “Hmm. That’s an old one, but I’ll accept it. This time. As long as they have something valuable for me. Ask for their cargo summary, and their crew summary. We need another doctor, preferably before this one leaves.” There was a sudden sense of interest that Anne couldn’t fit in with her horrified contemplation of what was in front of her.

The girl’s body was covered with wounds. She’d bled out from the throat, but before that she had been sliced… just everywhere, just everywhere. Her whole body was striped with cuts revealing red and glistening muscle. The stench of blood was so heavy in the air that Anne could taste it as if she had a mouthful of iron.

Even Lauren’s face had been mutilated. Terror shot through Anne; she couldn’t seem to see or comprehend the specific details of what she was seeing, she wasn’t sure which. Her mind was racked with pain as if it had been mauled by some vicious animal.

“Yes, sir,” the voice from the computer said.

Had she done it? Anne couldn’t remember. Something cool and unshakable blocked her from remembering.

“Once they’ve sent it over, direct them to bay four. Have a security team ready. I’ll be there in an hour. I have some business to finish.” Anne was sure only she heard the note of pleasure in Loche’s voice.

“Yes, sir,” the voice said again. The computer chirped as communication ended.

There were footsteps behind her. Loche grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up into a sitting position. Anne didn’t dare resist. She felt the blood run down her body. “We have some time, little brute.” He knelt behind her, her back against his naked, bloody chest, taking her hand in his and raising the knife over the girl’s dead flesh. His hand crushed her fingers around the knife, his other arm wrapped around her and his voice a low and hungry growl. “Tell me you love me.”

Anne couldn’t help her struggling, nearly feral with horror.

Being yanked out of the memory this time was disorienting. Anne felt her mind scrambling for traction, Spock’s presence not enough to cool her fear into rational thought. Knowing he could not help, Spock quickly brought them out of it, the world coalescing around her again, the doctors and Jim standing near, waiting for whatever was to happen.

Anne’s first breath turned into a sobbing gasp that took everyone but Spock by surprise. She pushed herself up from the table, shaking, wrapping her arms around herself and trying not to scream. She felt her mind trying to seal itself away, the flickers of memory beating against her like debris against a deflector. They were talking around her, but she couldn’t understand it, her mind too caught up in rage and disgust and terror to interpret words.

She felt a touch on her shoulder and flinched away, the movement bringing her away from the brink of the memory that threatened to swallow her. Firm hands caught her chin, and something pressed against her neck; Anne felt herself sob again, and tried to pull away, but the hands held on, not hard or hurting but insistent. The thing on her neck hissed and stung. There were more voices, more noises, and something that continued, sounding soothing. Anne felt herself relaxing a little, the waves of emotion abating enough for her to be aware of who was talking to her. It was Jim; she felt her eyes overflowing with tears, and she pressed herself against his side, letting him hold her. His voice continued, low and soothing, and whatever they shot her up with started taking better effect.

She felt warm, and she felt as if she could feel every bit of the weave of his golden tunic pressed against her cheek. The shaking slowed, turning into occasional shudders. “Oh,” she said, her voice rough and desperate, her accent not quite right. “Oh god, I hope that was worth it.”

Spock’s voice came clearly now. “It was. We now have an access code for the base. The value of that code cannot be overestimated. It will lend legitimacy to this entire endeavour.”

Anne shuddered hard again and bit her lip. Best not to think further than that. “Thank you. You tried to make it easier for me. I’m glad you didn’t let me remember it.” Kirk’s chest was against her cheek, rising and falling with his breath. She could feel his heart beating. She was half-talking into his shirt, her words muffled by it.

Dr. Hayes sat on the examination table near her. “We’ll start talking whenever you feel you’re ready.” Her voice was more gentle than Anne had ever heard it.

“She’s gonna need it,” McCoy said. “Mind if I sit in on the session?”

Anne thought about this while Dr. Hayes spoke. “It’s up to her. If she feels comfortable enough with you in the room, then I’ll allow it.”

Kirk spoke for the first time since he’d stopped his soothing murmur. “You all right, tiger?”

The nickname surprised her into a laugh, and the laugh made her feel a bit better. “I’m getting there.” She lifted her head to look up at Kirk. “I’m so glad you’re here with me. Thank you.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” he murmured, smiling wryly. Tentatively, he lifted his hand to stroke her hair. Anne braced a little but let him touch it. Loche had pulled her around by the hair so many times that it was hard not to imagine it happening now. But no, he stroked her hair, smoothing it, petting it. As he did, she watched his face. There was nothing of the satisfaction or anger of Loche, and there was nothing of the greed and contempt of Tarenn. There was only affection, and concern. Anne relaxed. He would not hurt her.

And his eyes were so blue. his face so carefully balanced between those thick eyebrows and that knife-sharp jaw of his… She could get lost just trying to figure out how they all complemented each other. He was incredible. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. It was so much easier and better to get lost in him than it was to deal with her memories.

After a few moments, Kirk slowly started to release her. He’d seen when the drug kicked in, but he hadn’t said anything to the doctors for a little while longer, which Anne was intensely, almost embarrassingly, grateful for. “You’re gonna be okay?” he asked. “If you need me, I can stay, but I’m needed on the bridge too.”

“Go,” she said, feeling herself returning to equilibrium. “I’ll see you at my old quarters when we’re done.”

With a last squeeze, Kirk let his arms fall from her, backing away. Even when he turned, he still watched her over his shoulder, wary of leaving her. Spock followed him without a backward look.

She smiled at him, to reassure him. With the drug, it was hard to feel upset about anything. But she only turned her attention back to the doctors when the the med bay doors had been closed. “Yes, Dr. McCoy. You are welcome to sit in on my therapy session.”

“And Leonard, don’t be disruptive. Your opinions aren’t necessary and won’t be productive.” Dr. Hayes flashed an admonitory look at him.

“That’s slander, pure and simple,” Dr. McCoy said. “Lead the way.” 

True to her word, Anne had been absolutely reprehensible to Kirk during their practice at the gym. When no one was looking, of course. Whatever magic Hayes had worked was in full effect; Anne had put the memory out of her mind so thoroughly that Kirk almost wondered if she had really forgotten it. But if that was what she wanted, he was fine with it-- Kirk had put it out of his mind as well, concentrating on the lesson.

There was something utterly disarming about a woman who could dodge a punch thrown in her direction and come up inside his guard to steal a kiss. Anne was incredibly fast, and she knew how to hit and evade better than she’d ever let on. Of course, after the kiss she’d jabbed him in the ribs with her knuckles and slipped away. It was still supposed to be a fighting lesson. Kirk tried to keep his mind on the lesson, and he mostly succeeded. Once the door to his quarters slid shut behind them, however, he caught her hand, pulling her against his body and into a kiss.

She responded eagerly enough; it wasn’t until his hand slipped up to her throat that he caught the hummingbird quickness of her pulse and realized that his impulsive move might have scared her. Breaking away, he looked down at her, internally kicking himself when he saw the telltale glint of fear in her eyes. Just because she’d seemed so much better didn’t mean she actually was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

Fear and frustration and desire swirled in her eyes, her expression turning just a bit harder. “No. It’s me.” She ran her hands restlessly down his chest, her nails digging in as if she might scratch. “God I wish I’d met you before.”

“How much do you want to bet we’d have ended up in bed the first night and never seen each other again after a week?” he asked wryly, his hand stroking down to the small of her back. The exercise outfit she wore was damp with sweat, and he knew he was no better off.

“Still, at least I wouldn’t be so scared of the things I want to do,” she murmured. Her expression lightened a touch. “Let’s go shower and I’ll make good on all my promising.” Those misty grey eyes of hers darkened, searching him in a way that made goosebumps crawl up his spine.

“Oh, you will?” he asked, his eyebrows rising in smug, pretended surprise. “And how do you propose to do that?”

His smugness must have piqued her; by the time they’d reached the bedroom door, she’d already stripped him, and once in the shower, she’d laid a set of nail marks on his hips while she tormented him half to death with her mouth. To be truthful, he loved it when she was that aggressive. He could almost forget how careful he had to be when she simply took what she wanted from him. And while she was working on the rest, it was still a relief to let his guard down that way.

There was something different about this time, though. She touched him like she wanted to memorize him, her hands and mouth moving over the lines of his body as if to imprint him on her, to engrave him onto her senses.

They’d ended up curled up on the floor of the shower, Anne leaning back against his chest with his knees on either side of her, lazily trying to work a knot out of her scarred thigh while the water washed away the last of the bubbles. “We should get something to eat,” Kirk said, making no effort whatsoever to move her.

“Definitely,” Anne said, making no move to get up. Tipping her head back, she rested it under his chin, her hands running up his thighs.

Shifting her gently, he tilted her face up for a kiss, his other hand sliding down her collarbone to cup one of her breasts. “Or we could just stay here,” he said between kisses.

The chirp of the door intruded, bringing reality with it. Anne sighed and moved away from him, giving him room to get up. “You go get it,” she said. “If I do, it’s only going to look like we we were in the middle of something.”

“Well, we were,” Kirk pointed out as he got to his feet. Helping her up, he added, “But I guess it’s better not to be that obvious about it.” Stealing a kiss, he got out of the shower and toweled off. “Come join me whenever you’re done,” he said as he left the room.

The door chirped again. Kirk quickly threw on some clothes and walked out into the main room. “Come in,” he said.

Spock walked in, noticing the pile of Anne’s things beside the door and leaving it without comment. “Captain, you and I and Ms. Hardesty must consult regarding the mission.”

Kirk caught on immediately. “Those options you wanted to discuss with her.”

“Yes. I believe we have found a workable solution, however distasteful it may be to both you and Ms. Hardesty. But it is a significant improvement upon a suicide device.” He paused, then added, “I believe it would be best to include Ms. Hardesty in any further discussion.”

Spock had made no move to make himself comfortable; he stood, ramrod straight, in front of Kirk. Kirk shook his head. “Sit down, Spock. I’ll go get Anne.”

Spock inclined his head and took a seat on the couch, somehow managing to look formal anyway. Turning, Kirk went back into the bedroom, where Anne stood naked, towelling off her hair. “Spock says we need to talk,” Kirk said.

Anne froze, and Kirk could see fear in the taut lines of her body. For a moment, he half-expected her to bolt. “Yes. I suppose we do.” She dropped the towel and grabbed a dress, something thin and white and long that clung to her when she slipped it on but covered her almost completely. As they walked out into the main room, she pulled her hair over her shoulder, starting a braid.

Once they were seated with Spock, he spoke. “Ms. Hardesty and I have determined it is possible to seal off any incriminating memories so that she cannot give us away to Loche, even under immense pressure.”

Anne’s face was pale, her lips bloodless. Her fingers worked, finishing the braid, leaving the end loose. It started to unravel almost immediately. “I think I can do this,” she said softly.

“So you’d just… forget.” Kirk looked from one to the other. “You’d forget the Enterprise, the trial… everything.” Even him. He frowned. “I don’t like this, for obvious reasons, but it does seem to be a sound strategy.” Like everything else about this situation, it was probably a good idea even if he hated it.

Spock nodded. “Once we find the asteroid base, we can send Ms. Hardesty, Mr. Scott, and Lieutenant Uhura to the Orion runabout, where I will perform the necessary procedure. They will then be able to leave without Ms. Hardesty knowing about their Starfleet affiliation.”

This made sense, but Kirk still didn’t like it. The idea of Anne forgetting him was unpleasant, to put it mildly… but it was for the good of the Enterprise. “If this is the best way you can think of, I have to approve of it.” He looked over at Anne. “Are you all right with this?”

Anne slowly nodded. “It’ll be hard, but I can do it.” She stood, walking over to her pile of things, and picked up an alabaster sculpture of a large cat, a predator, primitively carved but crafted with great care. Taking it over to the dining table, she glanced at Kirk as if for permission, and he nodded. She placed it on the table.

Spock broke into their silent communication. “Captain, I have a recommendation to make regarding this mission.”

As Anne continued to scatter her art around the room, Kirk answered, “Go ahead.”

“I believe it would be advantageous to send Dr. McCoy along with the away team. It is likely that the team will need medical attention, and Dr. McCoy will then be in place when the security teams begin to sweep the base. He will be able to attend to medical emergencies immediately.” 

Turning this over in his mind, Kirk had to agree. “Good idea. I’ll let him know his new assignment.”

There was a moment when Anne and Spock locked eyes, and then Spock stood. “Then I’ll take my leave of you, Captain. Mr. Chekov and I will continue to work on the monitors.” He nodded to Anne. “Ms. Hardesty.”

Anne gravely nodded back, a painting in her hands. “Thank you again, Spock. You’ve been very considerate of my mind and my memories. I appreciate your help more than I can say.”

“You are most welcome,” Spock said emotionlessly, but Kirk suspected that Spock was gratified. He might even like Anne. Turning, Spock left the room.

Anne pressed the painting against the wall, a strange piece of art and flesh and darkness that was unsettling rather than beautiful. She stood back, looking at it, and smiled. “Spock told me that the seal will degrade on its own. I won’t forget you for long.” Kirk could tell that her smile was held on by force of will. She touched the painting, her fingers lingering on one of the parts that looked most like flesh stripped bare. “I can stand it if I don’t have any choice.”

Kirk couldn’t leave it at that. He stood, walking over to her and gathering her close. “Are you sure, Anne?” he asked. In some way his pride felt stung, as if her decision not to remember had some bearing on the two of them.

It shouldn’t have surprised him when she turned in his arms, clinging to him, her head resting on his chest. “God no. I don’t want to do this, but it’s the best way to keep us all safe.” 

The way she’d touched him made sense now, that strong feeling of her trying to memorize him. Kirk shook his head, stung pride assuaged. “It’s only for a little while. Two or three days, and then it’ll be over with and we’ll be back to normal.”

“A lot can happen in that time,” Anne said, looking up. She seemed lost, searching his face as if for guidance. “I’m not sure… I don’t know what I’ll be like. I’ll be terrified.”

Kirk reached up, plucking at her unraveling braid. “I know,” he said simply. This wasn’t fair to either of them. Kirk felt his authority chafe for once, his ship the reason Anne had to suffer. He shook his head. “You’ll get through it. And I _will_ come for you.”

The lost look faded, her expression becoming more natural. “Yes. Even if I can’t know it.” She sighed and pressed against him, very obviously reassuring herself with contact.

Stroking her back, Kirk grazed her hair with a kiss. Things were getting complicated. It wasn’t that he resented it, but he was so unused to it that he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Nevertheless, he knew instinctively that his confidence or lack of it would spread to Anne and the others; he held her as if he knew what he was doing, trying to believe that what he was doing was right.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Sexual Content.**

That evening was quiet; Anne studied while Jim worked, and afterward they had dinner while watching an obscure old movie about sheriffs cleaning up a western town, arguing quietly about period accuracy and handlebar mustaches and trying to completely ignore the spectre of her imminent forgetting. It worked, to some degree-- by the time the movie had ended, Anne was calm, nestled at Jim’s side as if she belonged there. She was glad that he talked during movies the same way that she did, examining them, figuring them out. It was more comfortable than silence.  


By that time, however, even silences were comfortable. Sometimes there was no need to talk. That night, there was some gentle, tender play before sleeping, the kind of lovemaking that left her relaxed and sated and utterly content. Anne wondered if this was how it would be between them if they could be more than temporary. If it was, it wouldn’t be so bad. The last time she’d wondered about anything like that, she’d still been in university, still figuring out who she was. She’d found out she was someone who couldn’t handle closeness, but this was different somehow.

The nightmares came back, of course. This time she woke on her own and curled into Jim, breathing in his scent and calming herself. In his sleep, he threw an arm over her.

The next day was a bit strange. Gossip had already spread, and Anne found people looking at her with curiosity. Everyone seemed to know, and several times she received either smiles or glares that threw her off. She wondered if Jim was facing the same thing, and decided that he probably wasn’t. He was the Captain, after all. None of his crew would dare.

Mr. Scott didn’t act any differently, but when she and Uhura left after finishing their training for the day, Uhura asked her, “So this is honesty, huh?”

Anne ducked her head. “I didn’t think it was my place to say. You’re Jim’s friend, and I thought he should be the one to tell you.”

Uhura frowned at her, although she seemed more skeptical than upset. “I suppose that’s reasonable. Still, you knew when we had that conversation, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Anne said. “We’d decided the night before.” She paused, then added, “And when we get back to Yorktown we might rent an apartment. Maybe. We’ll see how things go.” She shook her head, smiling crookedly. “Might as well go all in while we can,” she said, enjoying the memory of that conversation.

Uhura relaxed, her frown fading. “Well... it’s good for him. Being the Captain can be lonely. Not that he’d ever give it up.”

“I wouldn’t be here if he would,” Anne said.

Uhura looked sideways at her. “Are you always this into self-defeating relationships?”

Anne couldn’t decide whether she was teasing or not, so she answered straight. “Don’t ask me, I usually kick them out in the morning.”

That won her a laugh. “No wonder you get along so well.”

The mind-meld that day was painful, arduous, and ultimately uninformative. It didn’t matter. She and Spock knew there was very little of use left in her memories; this was just in case. It wasn’t as bad as the day before, but Anne still had to calm herself afterward, leaning on Jim. Dr. Hayes and Dr. McCoy looked sourly at them, but Anne and Kirk ignored it. They were going to disapprove no matter what. After the mind meld, and after the drug had kicked in, Jim informed them all that there would be an informal meeting to bring everyone up to speed on the mission and what it entailed. Everyone who played a vital part in it was to come.

Anne knew if she wasn’t in a euphoric haze, she would have been nervous about that. As it was, she simply smiled and said she’d have to find some Saurian brandy to pass around. Kirk had laughed and made no more of it, excusing himself and Spock.

Therapy, as usual, was brutal. Even through the euphoria and the trust the drug generated, recalling the events wore away at her soul. Dr. McCoy sat in on the session again, and once it was over had seemed thoughtful. It made her curious, but not curious enough to ask about it.

At the gym, she and Kirk restrained themselves, leaving no room for innuendo and flirting, concentrating on the task at hand. There was no point; they barely had time to shower before the meeting.

Except that they couldn’t quite stop themselves. There was never a point where Anne wasn’t thinking about his hands on her, and Kirk could tell. She could see it in the way he handled her, the carefulness of his hands when he positioned her, the way his voice deepened just a touch when she was pressed up against him for a breakaway. It was unavoidable.

It continued on through the shower, the two of them frustrated, wanting to touch and stopping themselves. Even though the meeting was coming up, Anne was calculating in her head whether they would be able to get away with a quick liaison, and regretfully coming to the conclusion that they could not. She could see the same calculation going on in Kirk’s mind, in the way he looked at her, in the way his hands caressed when he soaped her back.

When the door chime rang, they were both fully dressed, Kirk in his uniform, and Anne in the little grey dress she’d worn to Sulu’s apartment, her hair in a smooth twist. Anne was already setting out tea and biscuits; Kirk had looked at her askance, but even if it was old-fashioned, Anne would not have people over without refreshments.

Spock and Uhura were the first to arrive. Uhura smiled at her, and Spock nodded. There was barely time to get them seated before the others started to arrive. Dr. McCoy, Dr. Hayes, Mr. Scott, Keenser, and Mr. Chekov were all present. Kirk played along with Anne’s formality, greeting everyone and seating them, offering them tea and biscuits, allowing Anne to pour for them. McCoy and Hayes declined the tea, but Scotty and Chekov accepted, Scotty with thanks and Mr. Chekov with evident pleasure. Keenser immediately went to work on the biscuits, nibbling away at one with chocolate chips while his hands were overflowing with every other kind.

Mr. Scott sipped gingerly at his tea, and then drank more deeply. “Darjeeling, right?” he asked Anne. She nodded, and he grinned. “I thought so. With a hint of lemon, maybe?” 

Anne brightened. He liked his teas too. She hadn’t known that. “Of course,” she said.

Kirk looked on, amused, and then said, “All right. We’re all here to get status updates on the mission. Mr. Chekov, we can start with you. Where are you with the monitors?”

Chekov nodded, his eyes lingering on Anne for a second before he looked at Kirk. “I am nearly finished vith them. Zey are small enough to be implanted vithout any discomfort, but zey have excellent range, and instead of punching through ze magnetic interference, zey use it as a mask and an amplifier. Zey vill not be easily detected.”

Kirk nodded. “Good. Once you’re done, Hayes, you’ll get them implanted.” Dr. Hayes looked surprised, but made no protest.

Chekov shook his head. “Zat vill not be necessary, sir. Ze devices are small enough to be implanted vith a hypospray, and zere is no medical risk. I vill need to match the signals vith the sensor array to make sure ve are receiving zem, but zat vill take maybe half an hour in one of ze labs. Zere is no need to interrupt Dr. Hayes’ vork.”

Impressed, Kirk said, “Well done, Mr. Chekov. Get it done tomorrow.” Chekov nodded, and his gaze flicked to Anne again, and then back. If Kirk noticed it, he didn’t comment.  “Uhura, Scotty, Keenser, how are the beacons and the suppression fields working?”

Mr. Scott cleared his throat and spoke. “The beacons are finished, sir. The suppressors need a bit more time, but they can be ready in a pinch.” Keenser nodded along, his strange silvery eyes fixed on Kirk as he slowly chewed a biscuit.

Uhura added, “I’ve got communications working on the channel that Loche was using for Anne’s transmitter. It'll seem like it’s only that transmitter, but our information will be coded in it. I’ve entered the channel and code into our data banks and briefed my communications officers on how to decrypt the signal. We can only send in short bursts without distortion, but that should be enough.”

“Good,” Kirk said. “Get those suppressors going. We only have three more asteroid belts to search.” There was a short silence before Kirk finally said, “Spock. Brief everyone on the change to the mission.”

A few confused looks passed between the crew members before Spock spoke up. “We have decided it would be most advantageous for Ms. Hardesty and for the crew if she were not to remember anything past her captivity on the Sorte.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Hayes asked, frowning.

Spock inclined his head to her. “I will create a mental seal on her memories. She will not remember being rescued, the trial, or serving on the Enterprise. She will not know that Starfleet is involved in any way. The seal will naturally be temporary, and will degrade within a few weeks.”

Uhura asked slowly, “So you want us to take her and let her think we’re actually selling her.” She looked at Anne. “Are you really okay with this?” Her voice held a tinge of horror.

Anne closed her eyes briefly, manufacturing a tranquil smile. “If the alternative is giving away the mission, then yes. It will only be a few days.”

Dr. Hayes gritted her teeth, the muscles in her jaw flexing. Frustration only lent color to her cheeks, her deep brown eyes framed perfectly by her frowning brows. “This is dangerous. Fracturing her mind like that could trigger instability.” Despite her evident displeasure, she seemed to realize that protests were useless. 

“Our alternatives are either potentially ineffective, or unacceptable,” Kirk said. “Hardesty is willing, and it is temporary.” Anne was sure she could see a flicker of resentment beneath his calm command. He didn’t like giving this order.

Scotty made a couple of false starts, then said, “I dinna know if I can do this. The lass’ll be scared out of her wits.” He looked guilty, though none of it could possibly be called his fault.

Kirk just looked calmly at him. “You’re going to have to do it. But you’ll have help.” Kirk looked at McCoy. “Bones, you’re going with them.”

Taken aback, McCoy snapped, “What? _Why?_ I’m not getting in that little deathtrap.”

“You can hide in the back compartment and take care of Anne,” Kirk said. “But you’re going. That’s an order. The away team will need medical assistance, and you’ll be more convincing as a smuggler than Scotty will.” Kirk smiled slightly at Mr. Scott. “No offense meant.”

Mr. Scott gave him a look of rueful agreement, but McCoy growled, “That’s bullshit--”

Dr. Hayes cut him off. “Leonard, if I can’t be there to watch over my patient when she’s under this kind of stress--”

“We’ll talk about this later,” McCoy interrupted, shooting a venomous glance at Hayes, his frustration clear.

“That’s an order, Bones,” Kirk said into the silence afterward, his voice quiet and his face calm.

“I heard you, Captain,” McCoy said and subsided, looking even more discontented.

Kirk continued on smoothly. “Dr. Hayes, you’ll need to prepare the med bay for casualties. With two hundred fifty men and another possible seventy-five or so as combatants, there will definitely be wounded to deal with. Our best shot will be to take them swiftly, get the shields down, and to use heavy stun sweeps on groups. Our intelligence reports that while some of these smugglers will be armed, they depend heavily on the shields and the magnetic field to protect them. They won’t be expecting an attack from the inside.” Kirk leaned forward and tapped some buttons on the table. The partial map of the asteroids that Anne had made floated in the air. “This is all the information we have on the inside of the asteroid base. Mr. Scott, as soon as you have the full layout, transmit it to us, along with the places you’ll plant the magnetic suppressors.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Mr. Scott said, looking more comfortable now that they were addressing the technical side of things.

“Uhura, you’re our liaison to Scotty and to Hardesty. If either of them gets in too deep, you’re going to pull them out. You will monitor the situation with Loche and if it begins to reach a critical point, you’ll sound the alarm. He is dangerous; you know this. Be careful.” Kirk gave Uhura a half-grin.

“Aye sir,” Uhura responded, nodding her head.

Kirk looked over to McCoy. “Bones, you’re going to take position as the leader of this little smuggling group. You’re going to sell Hardesty to Loche, and then you will monitor the physical condition of the away team. Tell the smugglers whatever they need to hear to get you access to their med bay. I’m sure you can think of some reason you’d want to work outside the law. Position yourself near wherever Scotty says is the best beam-in point in Section Two when things start to happen, and we’ll assign part of the Section Two team to clear a path to the medical facilities. You’re our first line of medical assistance when the operation starts, and I’m expecting casualties. It’s your job to minimize them.”

McCoy heaved a sigh, his expression surly. “Fine. I got it.” He glanced over at Anne. “No hard feelings about selling you, all right?”

Anne gave him a gracious nod, the serene smile still firmly in place. “Of course not, Doctor.”

“Hardesty,” Kirk said, and she could hear an ironic undercurrent in his voice. “I know you won’t remember this, but do your best to be distracting.”

“I doubt that will pose a problem,” Anne said mildly, and sipped her tea. She saw Chekov’s gaze flick to her once again, and a hint of agreement in his eyes. Very interesting.

With a small bitter grin, Kirk returned his attention to the group. “Mr. Spock will take command of the operation on the Enterprise, and I will take command on the ground. As soon as we find the asteroid and a good hiding place near it, Captain Vergne on the Farragut-A will join us. That should stack our deck sufficiently.” He scanned the group once more. “Any questions?”

A murmured chorus of “No, sir,” came from the group.

“All right then. You all have your assignments. That’s all for today.” Kirk leaned back on the couch, snagging Anne’s teacup from her hand and taking a sip.

The group began to disperse, Chekov leaving after a muttered, “Hev a good evening, sir, ma’am,” and a brief but warm glance at Anne. Keenser took a handful of biscuits, retreating out the door after Scotty. Dr. Hayes gave Kirk a thoughtful glance before turning to leave, and McCoy followed in her wake, glaring back at Kirk.

Spock and Uhura lingered behind, their eyes wandering over the art and sculptures that Anne had placed. Looking at one of the paintings, Spock raised his eyebrows. “A reproduction of the classic. The painting itself is fascinating; a deconstruction of femininity and an admiration of both the vulnerability and perfection of the body.”

“I didn’t know you were familiar with human art, Mr. Spock,” Anne said, inclining her head to him, attempting, if not detachment, then at least dignity. She pulled it off fairly well, she thought.

“Some human art resembles Vulcan art. I find the intersection of the two an interesting starting point for contemplation of both our likenesses and differences.”

“I’m not sure I like it,” Uhura said, “but I do think the art is a good addition.” She stood. “We must be keeping you from your evening plans.”

Kirk leaned over and blanked the holo image of the asteroid base. He glanced at Anne, and she knew what he was silently asking; she gave him a minute nod. “Stay if you like. We could have dinner,” he said. Anne could tell that it wasn’t an invitation he made often, and she could guess well enough why that was. He was always the Captain. He was always working, on some level, and having dinner was something that just happened while he worked, not a way to spend time with his friends. But tonight… he wanted that division, for some reason. She didn’t want to guess too hard at why.

Uhura smiled. “Are you sure, Jim?”

Spock tipped his head toward Kirk. “We have been focussed entirely on our mission thus far, and I find myself interested in socializing.”

“Please, do stay,” Anne said, feeling a little shy. “We would enjoy the company.”

Uhura favored her with that smile too. “All right, then.” She sat back down on the couch, taking a biscuit and biting neatly into it.

“You three have known each other for a long time, haven’t you?” Anne asked. “You fit together in a way that I only see in people who have history together.”

Kirk laughed, looking like he was remembering something a little embarrassing. “Yeah, we’ve known each other a long time. Not always in a friendly way.”

“You were a sleazy jerk,” Uhura said, but her smile took the sting out of her words. “I hadn’t known you for half an hour before you grabbed me.”

“That was an accident,” Kirk said, pretending to be defensive.

“I too had an antagonistic relationship with our Captain when we first met,” Spock said, directing his words to Anne. “I have since come to admire and respect him, but I had difficulty doing so when we first met, as he had cheated on a test of my design.”

Anne glanced over at Kirk with a mischievous grin. “Oh, perfect. I’m going to get _all_ the dirt on you now.”

“Hey!” Kirk said. “That’s no fair. I don’t get any dirt on you?”

“Nope,” Anne said, her grin widening. “There isn’t any. I was a perfect angel growing up.”

“Bullshit. I’m pretty sure I heard something about property destruction and vandalism,” Kirk said, scoffing at her.

“Hey, I didn’t tell you that!” Anne said, taken aback. There had only been one episode like that when she was a teenager. Well, all right, maybe two or three, but definitely no more than that. Definitely none that she could get in trouble for now.

“Yeah you did. Just after the Ktarian vodka,” Kirk laughed.

“Oh, ugh. That stuff was terrible. Anyway, I was just a kid when all that happened,” Anne said, quickly looking back to Spock. “About this test he cheated on…?”

Uhura laughed, as much at them as with them, and even Spock granted them a slightly less expressionless look. As Spock began to tell her about the test, Kirk stood up, opening one of the bulkhead compartments and rummaging through the storage space until he found a half full bottle of cognac. Getting four wine glasses from the synthesizer, he came back and poured them each a glass.

With Anne coaxing everyone to open up as well as the natural ease of the other three, she heard many of the stories that Kirk had alluded to in their conversations. Some of them were not so flattering to him; others spoke well of his character and his commitment to the ship. The subject of Vulcan’s demise came up, and Anne spent a few moments with Spock in remembrance of the austere beauty of both the planet and the creations of the people who lived on it. Vulcan had been the first planet she’d ever set foot on that wasn’t Earth, and the idea that all of that history was lost pained her. It was not a subject to dwell on, so Anne began to prod at their experiences on other planets, the best and worst places to visit, the most distinctive, the most interesting.

The subject of Sivao also came up, a much happier memory for everyone. Uhura’s eyes lit up when Anne said she had a useful, and Anne brought out the blue length of cloth, fine as silk and strong as a rope, stylized golden birds in flight across it. Uhura and Anne discussed music then, the trading of songs and the beautiful dances, the customs of the Sivaoans and Eeiauoans, and the beauty of their catlike forms. Apparently all of them had gone on the Walk that made them into adults by Sivaoan tradition; only Anne had chosen to do so rather than being forced into it by necessity. Of course, by the time she’d been there, it had long been acceptable for off-worlders to Walk. The other three had been the ones to blaze that trail.

Eventually they moved to the dining table, deciding on a couple spicy Sichuan dishes that Anne had tweaked. Spock’s unique biology enabled him to ignore the heat, while the rest of them ended up with numb tongues and flushed cheeks. Anne let herself be drawn out a little, telling a story or two that Kirk had already heard, and one or two that he hadn’t, explaining about her migrant lifestyle and making jokes about the difficulty of transporting seedlings from place to place while trying to travel light.

Spock was curious about the gardening, his eyebrow raised as he asked, “Would it not be easier to give it up? It seems most inconvenient to transport living plants from world to world when one has no intimation of how long one will stay.”

Anne shook her head, her smile crooked. “It is very inconvenient. I’ve tried to give it up many times, but it always creeps back, like a bad habit. One day I’ll be plant free, and then the next I’ll find a packet of basil seeds tucked inside a shoe or something and think that one might not be so bad… And then the next thing you know I have a dozen pots scattered around and the tomatoes are just ripening so I can’t possibly go off-world yet, and the peppers are turning, and maybe I can manage to take six plants if I jettison everything else…” She shrugged, grinning at Spock and Uhura. “I give as many away as I can to people I meet. There’s a Klingon trader out there somewhere who has a pot of French lavender on his ship, and has been meticulously instructed in its care. It may even still be alive; lavender is a hardier plant than it seems.”

Uhura laughed, tickled by that incongruous mental image. “Now I’ll be curious the next time I meet a Klingon trader. What was his name?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you that,” Anne said. “He wouldn’t like me identifying him to Starfleet. His cargo wasn’t exactly illegal, but it was potentially problematic for him to be dealing with humans.”

Kirk raised his eyebrows at her. “Someday I’m going to get the whole story on that one,” he mock-threatened.

“There’s really not much to tell. I was passing through the Borderland, close to Klingon space, and I happened to meet someone on Verix who knew of a… grey market, I guess you’d call it. Legal items that were hard to find or rationed. Went in to examine it and met the trader.” Anne shrugged and smiled blandly. Jim hadn't been referring to how she'd met the Klingon. “I left a few plants behind with people there when I shipped out on a cargo vessel bound for Son’a and then Betazed.”

“Do you never wonder about the environmental impact of spreading alien seeds? They could be invasive species when introduced to other planets.” Spock said.

Anne weighed the question gravely. “I do wonder, sometimes. If I ever heard of one of them becoming invasive, I would be far more careful. But the plants I grow are all useful or beautiful, and have equal potential for benefit. I also wonder… would it be so bad if Qo’noS became seeded with lavender? At least the Klingons you met would all be sweetly scented.” She smiled. “I don’t mind being the agent for a little chaos.”

“You wouldn’t,” Kirk said dryly.

“That reminds me… I found a little packet of seeds in my things, and I was wondering if the ship had pots and soil. I feel like I need to get my hands dirty.” Anne’s gaze flitted between the three of them.

“I’m sure we can find something,” Kirk said. She could tell that he liked the idea, or at least found it novel that she would want to grow something here. “What kind of seeds are they?”

“They’re a variety of gardenia called tiaré,” Anne said, wondering if he would remember. “Very sweetly scented.”

From his expression, Kirk immediately made the connection to her perfume. “By all means. I’m sure we can scare something up.”

“Are they easy to care for?” Uhura asked. “I used to have a bit of a touch with plants, and sometimes home does feel a little… sterile.”

“They need you to pay attention, but as long as you’re careful you can get them to grow. I’ll start a few seedlings for us and show you, if you want.” Anne tapped the holo controls and pulled up an image of the Tiaré Tahiti.

Uhura examined the plant, turning it this way and that, smiling as she saw the white pinwheel flowers. “I’d like that.”

Kirk looked over at Spock. “Women and flowers,” he said, barely attempting to suppress his amusement.

“There is a longstanding cultural disposition in the human race to sensitize women to flowers and their significance in romance, decoration, perfumery, and even culinary arts,” Spock answered. “It is not surprising to see it in action.”

Uhura pretended a frown. “Tell me you wouldn’t like it if I brought you flowers,” she said to him.

Spock paused, taken aback by this sudden turn, and then replied, “I would of course receive them with pleasure, as they would be a signifier of your affection and esteem.”

“Exactly,” Uhura said. “Logically speaking, to receive flowers is to receive a tangible symbol of affection. To take no pleasure in it would be an implied rejection of that affection. The flowers themselves are valuable only for their beauty, but the intention behind them makes them more significant than they would otherwise be. It is possible that we are sensitized to that significance rather than the flowers themselves, and societally conflate that significance with the physical trappings.”

“Perhaps it is the reversal of traditional roles that makes it seem unusual,” Spock said. “However, I assure you that I would indeed enjoy such a token of affection.” He glanced at Kirk. “And I suspect I am not alone in either my surprise or my potential enjoyment of such a gesture.”

Kirk shrugged, amused and noncommittal. “It’s not something that’s come up.”

Anne leaned an elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. “I can’t even remember the amount of times people have brought me flowers for one reason or another.” She smiled, tapping out another sequence on the holo. “The best one was when someone brought me a literal bouquet garni, all flowering rosemary and thyme and some bay leaves, stalks of parsley and a little branch of peppercorns.” The hologram began to take shape, the herbs she’d mentioned appearing, tied together with slivers of leek leaves. “Useful and beautiful. I made dinner with part of it, of course, and put the rest in a vase on the table.” She sighed. “Once this is all over, I have so many messages to write.” Because they were travelling on a low profile, she couldn’t make or receive subspace communications.

Kirk looked curious. “You’re not too much of a wanderer to keep in touch?”

Anne tilted her head, watching him. She knew why he was asking. “It depends. I like to send little presents, strange liquors, exotic art, that sort of thing. And sometimes I write messages, but not often.” She looked over the three of them. “It must be very similar to having friends posted on other ships. You’re busy, you can’t sit down and write long messages or spend hours on the comm. Your friends must know that.”

Uhura made a little grimace. “To be honest, most of our friends are posted on the Enterprise. I see what you mean, though.”

“It is only logical that our closest bonds would be formed with our shipmates. We have worked together through many dangerous situations, saved each other’s lives many times, and that forges strong attachments.” Spock looked as detached as if he was talking about someone else, but Anne knew she could see a flicker of personal feeling there, the tiniest crack in his logical shell. She knew him better than that by now.

The smile on Kirk’s face could not be called happy, but it was full of genuine trust and affection. “True enough. I can’t even remember how many times you two have saved my ass.”

“Same,” Uhura said, her smile reflecting his. “It’s impossible and pointless to keep count.”

Anne resettled her chin in her hand, sighing. “I envy that, you know? I mean… I have friends I can stay the night with on every planet I can think of, but none that would go that far for me. I’ve never stuck around long enough to develop that.” She smiled, but she knew her regrets were visible on her face. “I like my solitude. I couldn’t live without it. But... it has some definite downsides.”

“Even so, may I remind you that you have no one you are answerable to? Ultimately, Lieutenant Uhura and I are answerable to the Captain, and he is answerable to Starfleet Command, and more importantly, the whole ship besides. You have only yourself to answer to, and from what I have learned of you, that is how you best thrive.” Spock gave her a tiny curve of his mouth, barely a smile.

That teased a genuine smile from Anne. “Well, you would know, wouldn’t you?” she laughed. The memory of the mind melds sobered her a little. “Are we trying again tomorrow? It’s supposed to be my day off, but I’ll come in for that if you think it’s worthwhile.”

“I believe it would be more beneficial for both of us to spend the day resting. We can make an attempt the day after, if necessary.” Spock looked over at Kirk. “And speaking of rest, we should retire for the evening. I have the first shift tomorrow, and my reports need to be finished this evening.”

Uhura rolled her eyes at his delivery, her affection evident in the gesture. “Yes, it is getting a little late. We should let you get a head start on your day off.”

Kirk and Anne followed the other two as they got up from the table and walked toward the door, Kirk saying, “This was good. We should do this more often.” He sounded as if he were a bit surprised by it.

As Spock agreed, Uhura approached Anne, gently laying her hands on Anne’s shoulders. Anne only had to brace herself a little; she knew Uhura wouldn’t hurt her. “It _has_ been good,” Uhura said, smiling, her eyes searching Anne’s face. “I’m glad we’re getting to know each other.”

Suddenly feeling shy, knowing it showed, Anne gave Uhura a tentative smile. “I am too,” she said, unable to express the complicated feelings suddenly arising. It was one thing to get someone talking and gain their affection, but it was another thing entirely to make a real friend. While it had been as easy as slipping into silk with Kirk, she knew that was a combination of chemistry and intensity that had rushed them through it, and it was something that could never be replicated. With Uhura it was a slower procedure that she was afraid she would be clumsy with. “Let’s get together after your shift tomorrow, if I can find some decent soil for the seeds. Let me know what would be a good time.”

“I’ll send you a message,” Uhura said, stepping away. She and Spock said their goodbyes, and then Kirk and Anne were finally alone.

“I like them,” Anne said. Jim stepped over to her and rested an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. “You have some really good people on this ship, you know that? And I don’t mean good at their jobs, I mean… high-minded. Morally good.”

Chuckling, Jim looked down at her. “Morally good?”

Anne looked up at him, surprised that he would find it funny. “Yes,” she said. “Morally good. People that stick to their ideals and try to make things right for others.” She bumped him gently with her shoulder. “You’re one of them. Don’t you know that?”

Jim was watching her with an expression that said he found her words odd but a little touching. “That’s not something people usually say about me,” he said, those blue eyes searching her. “The general opinion seems to be that while I’m an excellent Captain, I have a problem with authority and a flagrant disregard for the rules. I’ve even had rank removed for it.”

“They’re not wrong, but I’m more right,” Anne said smugly.

“Oh, are you?” Jim asked, affectionately mocking her as he stepped in so that she was pressed against him. Anne felt herself lean in, her breasts pressing against his muscled chest, her arms rising to wrap around his waist.

“I definitely am,” she said, the self-satisfied smile never leaving her lips. “And I’ll tell you another thing I’m right about.”

“What’s that?” he asked, one of his hands sliding up to the back of her neck, giving her a pleasant shiver. His flame-blue gaze flicked between her eyes and her lips, intense and intimately interested.

“You’re going to pull the pins out of my hair, and then you’re going to kiss me,” Anne said, her voice turning the tiniest bit rougher, lust adding depth to it.

“Well, how _did_ you know?” Kirk asked, a grin curving his lips. His fingers slid up into her hair, pulling out a pin and dropping it on the floor. “I guess if you’re right about that, you must be right about the rest.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Anne murmured, feeling the pins fall away, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. She knew it was a complete mess, but she didn’t care. He’d seen worse.

Once the pins were gone, he leaned down and took her eager lips in a kiss that gave her shivers and made her huddle against him, as if she could somehow press through their clothes to touch skin. 

Holding themselves back all day had done them no favors. Kirk’s mouth was demanding on hers, and she responded with equal intensity. It wasn’t long before the fastener along the back of her dress was undone and Jim was easing her dress down. That, of course, made it harder to divest him of his uniform; Anne decided not to attempt the shirt, and to work on the pants instead. He laughed when she undid them, but the laugh turned into a groan as she stroked him, squeezing him gently, He fumbled a little with the dress after that, distracted by her hands, but he eventually slid it down over her hips, leaving her in her underwear. Same old Starfleet issue stuff.

But once he was finished, she almost tore the shirt off him, and the undershirt, leaving his chest delightfully bare. Her unoccupied hand roamed his chest, feeling the smoothness, the tiny light dusting of hair just in the center, the almost-not-there little trail that led from his navel down. Anne hooked her finger in the waistband of his underwear, tugging gently at it. He was pressed to her, so it was a little hard to tug them and his pants off, but she carefully did so, leaving his naked, throbbing cock pressed against her belly. The state of him only excited her more, the feeling of his arousal in her hands so intoxicating that she couldn’t help but purr into his mouth while one hand stroked him, and the other dug nails into his ass.

His thumbs slid into the waistband of her panties, jerkily tugging them down, his attention mostly on the things she was doing to him with her hand. As she kicked them off, his hands slid to her ass, pulling her harder against him, kneading. One of them slid up, flicking her bra open, and she stopped just long enough to fling it away.

Being naked against him felt so right, so perfect. Her mouth feasted on his, her hand stroking him until she felt him stagger a little, his knees weak. Laughing into the kiss, her hands slid to his shoulders, urging him down. They sank to the floor in a tangle of limbs and heated, biting kisses. Anne ended up on top of him, straddling him, his hands wandering over her back, cupping her ass, while she slid a hand between them to continue her tormenting. The little noises he made, his gasps and soft groans, were driving her mad. She couldn’t believe how much her body ached for him, her skin on his, her hand on his hard, throbbing cock. 

The kiss was making her dizzy, stealing her breath. Anne moaned and tore her lips from his, sitting up, moving back so that she was grinding on his cock, her labia split, her juices soaking them both. His eyes opened, watching her face, caught between desire and restraint. 

She knew how much he had to pull back, how much he had to control himself. She could feel it when he wanted to just grab her hips and thrust into her, the way he did now. The idea shot fear through her, mingling with a desire so strong that she could hardly breathe. Her fingers trailed along his chest, her hips moving, undulating, grinding her clit against the underside of his cock, a pleasure that was almost paralyzing flooding through her. She gasped for breath, rolling her hips, watching him fight himself so that he wouldn’t do what they both wanted, what she feared, his hands limp at his sides as if he didn’t even dare touch her.

It was too much. She wanted him too much. The fear was there, but the desire was finally starting to win against it. The roll of her hips became slower, more deliberate, the head of his cock catching at her entrance at the end of the movement. Every time, his breath caught, the tension starting to get to him

One of his hands moved, grazing her leg, and Anne flinched back, stilling for a moment. Immediately, she was angry with herself, resentful of the fear that kept her from what they both wanted. “Goddamn it,” she growled, still breathless. Her hips started to move again, slowly, as she convinced herself it was all right. “I want you inside me,” she rasped, caught again between her desire and her fear.

“What can I do?” he asked, his voice as ragged and strained as hers.

Anne knew what he meant. What could he do to help? “Nothing,” she murmured, and then suddenly froze as an idea struck her. Glancing around, her eye caught on the blue and gold useful still lying on the table. Looking down at him, she bit her lip, half trying to hide her abrupt amusement. “Actually, I think there’s something you could let _me_ do.”

Catching her humor, Jim raised a dubious eyebrow. “And what’s that?” he asked, suspicion and amusement coloring his voice.

In answer, Anne ground her hips one last time, stealing their breath with it, then bent and kissed his chest. Pushing herself up, she reached over to the low, round table and snagged the useful, drawing it tight between her hands, like a rope.

Jim’s eyebrows rose as he caught wind of her intent. He started to laugh softly. “Well, it’s not something I usually get into so quickly, but… if you think it’ll help, why not?”

The humor seemed to drive her fear back further.  Anne smiled. “All right. Give me your hands.” Obediently, he lifted them, and she looped the useful around his wrists, tying them firmly together, sliding a finger beneath the useful to check that they weren’t too tight. Kneeling up, she leaned over him to push his arms above his head, looping the ends of the useful around one of the legs of the round table and tying a slipknot, so that all she had to do was pull the end and it would come free. As she worked, she felt one of her nipples graze his cheek, a tingle of pleasure shooting down her spine. When she pulled back, she murmured, “There. Is that all right?”

Jim shifted beneath her, getting comfortable. “I’ll let you know if I need that undone,” he said, his eyes raking over her body. Even tied down, he didn’t look helpless; he looked as if he wanted to eat her alive. And oh, she wanted him to. Anne felt her lips part, her breath catching. The blue of his eyes seemed at once hotter than fire and deep enough to drown in. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her hips, grinding herself against him, watching his eyelids lower as the pleasure raced through him.

Even just watching his reactions had her eager for him, her hips moving faster, her heart racing. In less time than she thought, she was gasping, so ready, her pulse pounding between her legs. All Jim could do was thrust up against her; he struggled against the bonds every once in a while, but could not break free. The quiet, frustrated noises he made were killing her. She slowed her hips again, letting her clit grind over every inch of him, feeling the ridge of the head catch at it, her spine arching and then bowing, her head sinking to his chest as she felt his cock press at her, pulsing against her. Before she could convince herself out of it, she sank down, feeling the head spread her wide, filling her in a way that made her cry out softly.

Fear beat at the back of her mind, growing with every movement she made. Anne shuddered and moaned again as she took more of him, feeling him stretch her. It was incredible, and frightening, and so intense that she could barely breathe. With a last thrust and another soft cry, she sank to the base of him, his cock buried in her as far as it could go. Breathing in panting gasps, she lay still, hearing his heartbeat and feeling it inside her, reminding herself that she was safe, safe, safe, that he could do nothing, that she was in control. Gradually, she became aware of his rasping breath and the tension in his body, and something in her, some little drop of her old self, reminded her that _she_ had done this to him, that he was tense and frustrated and eaten alive with desire for _her_.

That little sense of wonder and the smugness that followed began to grow, and the fear ebbed, became bearable. Slowly, experimentally, she rolled her hips, feeling him involuntarily respond, thrusting up into her. The movement brought only pleasure, and so she did it again, and then again. If it was possible, she felt her heart speed further, her body craving more; she pushed herself up from his chest, looking down at him, and ground against him.

That bone-deep craving was reflected in his eyes in a way that made her both shivery and self-satisfied. Instinct and the pleasure principle took over, her hips moving, rocking, his cock thick and full, beating inside her. Her hands trailed over his chest and stomach, nails dragging along his skin. As the pleasure gathered in her, filling her, she let her head fall back, a ragged moan escaping her. Jim’s hips pounded up against hers, his every muscle taut with strain and anticipation. The fear was subdued, not gone but no longer in control, no longer in the forefront of her mind. The feeling of Jim beneath and inside of her and the pleasure that it created was far more important. Vital, even. 

Anne’s wandering hands found their way to her own body, her fingers exacerbating everything by stroking her clit, her other hand cupping one of her breasts. Her body was full to bursting, aching, and she felt frustrated, wishing for his hands on her. The thought gave her no pause; she broke their rhythm, leaning forward and yanking on the end of the slipknot. Jim made a noise halfway between a groan and a growl as she yanked his hands toward her, tearing at the knots in the useful and throwing it aside.

Once freed, one of his hands immediately grabbed her hip, helping her fuck him-- not controlling, not forcing, but letting her movements lead him, making them stronger, more intense. The other moved between her legs, brushing her own hand aside, his thumb grinding over her clit. Anne’s eyes slammed shut, and she could only manage a strangled, “Oh!” as she felt her body start to gather itself for an orgasm. The edge of it lapped at her, drawing her in, as implacable as an undertow pulling her towards the wave that would sink her. She barely heard herself making soft greedy noises, her mind focused on the pleasure of his hands, his body, his cock. Her own hands were gripping his arms, needing to hang on to something, as if the wave were real and might tear her away.

When it hit, she cried out, the strength of it blanking her mind and dimming all her senses with the ecstatic force rushing through her. She felt her body pulsing, contracting, spasming around him, and felt it tip him over the edge as well, his hips slamming up against her and a rush of warmth inside her as he came. Dizzy and breathless with the power of it, she clutched at his arms, the sensation lasting for blissful ages before gradually receding, leaving her slumped and gasping. Beneath her, Jim was also panting, trying to catch his breath. Slowly, she lowered herself down onto his chest, feeling his heart racing under her cheek. His arms settled around her, one hand absently stroking her back.

It took a long time to catch her breath, to gather herself enough to speak. “Can we just do that until we die of starvation? Because I think that might be the best of all possible futures.”

That surprised a laugh out of him, and she smiled as it rumbled beneath her cheek, his chest shaking. “You have a very good point there.” His hand stroked up her back again. “You okay?”

“Oh fuck yes,” she answered, and he laughed again.

“Just making sure.”

She smiled, knowing he’d feel it against his chest. “I was frightened, yes. But not because of you or anything you did.” A little laugh bubbled up from her. All that had left her downright giddy. “You were perfect, as usual.”

“You were pretty perfect yourself,” Jim sighed, his fingers stroking the back of her neck. “That was… intense.”

“Let’s hope it wasn’t a one-off,” Anne chuckled. She wasn’t worried; the chemistry they had was incredible. “Oof. My knees are starting to hurt.” As gorgeous as the Enterprise was, the floors were really hard. Anne pushed herself up on shaking arms, feeling the bottom drop out of her stomach as she pulled off him.

Jim made a noise that was half-laugh, half-groan as she moved away and then pushed himself up. “We need to learn to make it to the bed,” he said, stretching his back.

“It’s too far away,” Anne said, pretending to pout.

“Maybe we should just stay in the bedroom, then,” Jim said, grinning.

“Forever?” Anne asked, with exaggerated eagerness, all wide eyes and bright smile.

“Whoa, slow down there, tiger,” Jim laughed, pushing himself to his feet and offering her a hand up. She took it, getting unsteadily to her feet. Her legs were shaking, her knees still weak; she felt the way a newborn colt looked when it tried to walk. Taking a wobbly step toward him, she pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around him, feeling his arms come up around her and knowing she was completely, utterly safe. “Let’s just try it for tonight and tomorrow and see how that goes,” he said, still chuckling.

“Deal,” Anne sighed. Sweat was starting to dry on her skin, making it feel sticky, and she could feel his come starting to leak out of her. “Shower time first though.”

“Nope,” Jim said. “This first.” He reached up, lifting her chin, and bent to kiss her, long and slow and sweet. Anne felt another wave of desire wash through her, and she made a soft noise against his mouth, her body melting up against his. 

Before the kiss could get too involved, she pulled away, but she was already breathing a little harder, her heart beating a little faster. “You’d better watch it, or we’ll end up on the floor again.”

“Another very good point,” he answered. Anne could see that he had to catch his breath a bit too. “All right. Shower, bed, and then more of that.”

“Mmmm,” Anne purred, stepping away from him. “That sounds just lovely.” She glanced around the room at the dishes and leftovers from the meeting and dinner. “Fuck cleaning up. We can do it tomorrow.” On still-wobbly legs, she made her way toward the bedroom, Jim following a few steps behind her.

Just before the bedroom door opened, she glanced back and caught him watching her ass. Shameless, he grinned at her. “What? I’m just... appreciating the art you brought with you.”

That caught her off-guard; she snorted a laugh, shaking her head. “By all means, don’t let me stop you.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to, but it’s good to know I have your permission,” he said, and she could still hear his grin. Just for him, she stood up straight and put an extra little sashay in her walk; she heard him sigh in pleasure. “You really are gorgeous, you know that? You remind me of old movies from when they first started making them, the ones that didn’t even have any sound.” They reached the bathroom and Kirk turned on the shower. “The way you dress makes it even stronger. Like I said, you’re gorgeous.”

Anne adjusted the heat to her liking and stepped inside, feeling the water blast away the sweat and the remnants of their arousal. Attractiveness had never been something that had come naturally. She’d had to work to overcome her features rather than depending on them, using charisma and artifice to make up for the lack. “I think you’re biased,” Anne said, grabbing her own soap. It was perfumed, not the neutral scent that Jim used.

“Nah, I thought that from the first time I saw you all cleaned up.” Kirk stepped in and also began to soap up.

Anne couldn’t help her surprise, but she quickly recovered her poise. Running a hand down his front, she stepped toward him, saying, “I may not quite see it that way, but the fact that you do is really flattering.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss him, just briefly, and then she pulled away to say, “Thank you.”

Jim caught her chin. “You’re welcome, but you’re also wrong. I’m right.” Without giving her a chance to answer, he kissed her again, and this one was not brief.

They didn’t make it to the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to be away for a few weeks and may not be able to edit this enough to post it. If y’all want, I can try anyway, or I could leave it and post a short story from this continuity that involves Kirk and a character who has been mentioned a few times so far-- I can guarantee that it will be posted, though maybe not right on time. What do y’all think? Maybe post more of this story, or definitely post a different (slightly smutty) short story? Let me know in comments here, on [tumblr](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/), or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/winterverses)!


	36. Chapter 36

The sound of a door sliding closed woke him, the soft hiss unmistakable even in his dreams. It took Kirk a moment to remember that the empty bed beside him was the old normal, not the new one, but when he did he wondered whether he should follow her out into the other room. Did she need privacy, was she trying to get some space? **  
**

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her. Would it?

Banishing his doubts, he got out of bed and followed her, knowing the sound of the door would alert her to his presence without him needing to speak. If she made even a dismissive gesture, he’d let her be.

What he wasn’t prepared for was stepping in something warm and wet on the floor near the door. “Lights,” he snapped. Red splatters on the black floor. Suddenly he was wide awake, his heart picking up. It wasn’t a lot of blood, but any blood was too much. He strode from the bedroom.

At first, when her eyes flicked up to his, he thought she’d scratched her face-- a ring of red surrounded one eye, scarlet rivulets running down her cheek. As he drew closer, however, he realized that it was the hands she held limp in front of her that were bleeding, and that she’d probably just wiped her eye, either not knowing or not caring that wiping away her tears would do more harm than good. “I’m sorry,” she said before he could speak. Her voice was thick, taut with suppressed sobs, and she was huddled over like she was shielding herself from a strong wind. A drop of blood marred the couch beside her. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I didn’t get any blood in the bed, did I?”

He wasn’t sure if there was a worst part of waking up like this, but the apologetic, ashamed tone in her voice was a strong contender. He wasn’t even sure how to answer; her instinctive reaction, apologizing for something that no one with any empathy would ever have asked an apology for, knocked against some childhood memories he would rather leave firmly put away. So he didn’t try to answer. He walked to the food synthesizer and punched up some ice and a stack of cloth napkins, waited the few seconds in silence, and brought them over to her, sitting down beside her on the couch. “Show me,” he murmured, folding a chunk of ice into one of the napkins.

Turning one of her hands over, she revealed a set of four neat crescents in her palm, bleeding freely. Her palm began to fill with blood. “I heard with this sort of thing you’re supposed to let it bleed for a little while to flush the wound,” she said, her voice still sounding apologetic. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that once we’ve gotten you back from the med bay?” Kirk asked drolly, folding her fingers around the cloth-wrapped ice. “Press down on that and keep the pressure on it. If it gets too cold let me know and I’ll take the ice out.” He began to fold another chunk of ice into a napkin.

If anything, her voice was tighter, a little note of panic in it. “I’m so sorry. I’ll--”

“Anne,” he said firmly, cutting her off before her worry could escalate further. More gently, he continued, “You don’t need to apologize. I know you’ve been having nightmares. The important thing right now is to get the bleeding under control and get you down to the med bay to get it fixed up.” He saw to the other hand, wrapping her fingers around the ice, and then realized he was avoiding her eyes. Might as well come clean; he knew exactly why she was getting even more upset. “Actually, I should apologize to you. I wasn’t quiet because I was upset with you. I was quiet because… because you reminded me of something about when I was a kid. I don't like thinking about it.” He didn't look at her.

There was a short silence, and then he felt her lips press against his arm. Looking up from her hands, he saw that his admission had steadied her, as if she’d let her own hurts drive her insane, but his, even an old, old wound, needed her to be well enough to take care of them. He wondered if that sort of behavior wasn’t a factor in why being the Captain was so important to him, and then decided he didn’t want to think about that either. “Let’s get you cleaned up and head down to the med bay,” he said, giving her a little smile.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll go run my hands under some water if you’ll find us some clothes.” The tears had cleared from her voice, if not her cheeks. Kirk helped her up from the couch and followed her into the bedroom, throwing on a uniform, though leaving off the gold overshirt, and picking through her dresses for something that would be easy to get on her. Settling on a short sleeved grey thing that he remembered as being loose, he grabbed her some underwear and headed to the washroom.

Inside, he found her using the edge of one of the napkins to clear the blood away from her face, her hands cleaner now but still wrapped around the ice. There was surprisingly little awkwardness getting the clothes on her, although given a second thought it shouldn’t have been that surprising. Between the sex and the sparring, they knew their way around each other, both in body and movement, very well by this point. And by the time Anne was dressed, she was feeling better, the cobwebs of the nightmare having been cleared away, his own strange reaction to her forgiven and forgotten. Snagging a padd from one of the tables, Kirk absently noted the blood drying on his hands and immediately dismissed it, looking over at Anne. “Come on.”

“I _do_ know the way,” she said tartly, sounding much more like herself. “You don’t have to shepherd me there like a little lost lamb. Besides,” she added, her low voice softening. “You’ve taken care of the worst of it. You should go back to sleep.”

“You’re just saying that because you know I’ll clean up the mess while you’re gone,” he retorted, knowing that would keep her in horrified protests long enough that they’d be well down the hall and the question would be settled.

By the time they were walking into the med bay, she had realized exactly how he’d played her and was pretending to be offended to cover up her lingering shakiness. “I can’t believe you, Jim. That was a sneaky, underhanded thing to do,” she said, bumping him with her shoulder as they walked through the doors. “I feel like I’ve been taken advantage of.”

“It’s called strategy, Ms. Hardesty. You learn to use it when you’re the Captain,” he said, knowing that would actually ruffle her. He shot a grin at the pretty nurse he’d spoken to the last time Anne had gotten blood all over him, and glanced around for a doctor.

Bad luck… or maybe good luck; Claudia Hayes was on, that loose cascade of chestnut curls unmistakable even from the back, falling free over her shoulders. “I’ve got a patient for you, Dr. Hayes,” he said, ignoring Anne’s sullen grumbles. “Better grab your kit. Superficial hand wounds.”

Dr. Hayes glanced over her shoulder in surprise at his voice, her eyes flicking immediately to Anne. “What happened?” she asked them, reaching for her kit. Maybe she was too concerned about her patient to disapprove of him right now.

“Self-inflicted,” Kirk said. “Those nightmares she’s been having.” At Dr. Hayes’ look of confusion, Kirk frowned, then looked down at Anne, who had stopped muttering and was intently studying the weave of the cloth napkin around one of her hands. “You didn’t tell her.” Anne looked up at him, all blandly innocent confusion. “You didn’t tell _your psychiatrist_ you’ve been having nightmares every night.”

“Really, Anne,” Dr. Hayes said, pressing her lips together in an expression that tried to be severe but was beautiful instead-- the way a building hurricane was beautiful when you weren’t the one who had to worry about the destruction it would leave behind. “I need to know these things, especially with the mind melds involved.”

“I was hoping they would go away,” Anne muttered, sounding like a recalcitrant teenager.

Kirk made noise of disgusted amusement, and then brought the padd up, logging into it. “I’ll just be over here, ladies,” he said. “Try not to break any bones.” He wasn’t sure whether or not he was joking. At least they were already in the med bay. 

After he’d tapped out a message on the thing and sent it off as priority, he logged out and wandered over to one of the sinks. Dr. Hayes was still chewing Anne out, and the mutinous look on Anne’s face hadn’t eased even a little. At least the wounds were getting fixed. Scrubbing his hands until every last trace of blood was gone and then some, he dried them completely a couple times over and glanced around for a nail file or something he could use while he waited. Dr. Hayes was still at it, and if anything, Anne was looking downright baleful. Kirk wondered if Dr. Hayes realized that she was eventually going to hit the boundary of what Anne was willing to put up with, and then decided he’d let this play out for a while longer. Walking over to the pretty nurse, he made small talk for a bit, asked for and obtained a nail file, and managed to get most of one hand done before Anne exploded.

“That’s enough, Hayes. I’ve had too many goddamned lectures from you just lately and if you don’t button your fucking lip you’re going get a black eye,” Anne snarled. Kirk was glad he’d never been the recipient of that particular tone of voice from her. The spirit would be willing, and while she might have been small, she was still a quick, graceful little thing with an understanding of the weak points of the body. Between her and Hayes, assuming Hayes’ aggression translated to the physical… close match. Not sure which would win, but leaning toward Anne.

“Don’t you threaten me,” Dr. Hayes said evenly, her eyes narrowing, her hands still working on Anne’s. She didn’t even miss a beat. Kirk was… impressed. “I’m your doctor, not some wimp you can bully. If I want to lecture you, you will damn well sit still for it or I’ll sedate you for it. Your choice.”

A feral light entered Anne’s eyes, one that signified more than just annoyance or irritation, a hard glint that tripped some alarms in the back of his mind. Kirk decided he’d better break things up before this went much further. He flipped the nail file back to the pretty nurse and quickly walked over to Anne, laying an arm around her shoulders. “Settle down, tiger. I just got this doctor and I don’t need her dented.”

Anne’s gaze flicked up to his face and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and visibly trying to calm herself. Then her eyes shot open and she glared at him in sudden realization. “You asshole, you set me up!”

As Dr. Hayes looked up at him, her hands pausing, Kirk tried not to laugh and managed to hold it down to snickering. “Yeah, but you’re going to feel so much better when you’re not mad anymore,” he said. “Sorry, Doctor.” Not that he was really sorry. Anne had needed something to wipe away that shakiness, and anger was as good as anything else. Maybe better.

Dr. Hayes gave him a look that was trying to be severe, but he saw her mouth quirk. “I’m not the one who got played,” she said dryly and began the last of the wounds.

Anne fumed silently for a moment or two, and then said quietly but vehemently, “James Tiberius Kirk, I am going to wait until you fall asleep, and then I am going to spit in your ear.”

It would have been unprofessional to burst out laughing in the med bay, what with the actual sick people who needed their sleep. If there were any. He smothered it as best as he could, noticing that Claudia Hayes’ full lips were trembling as she tried to repress her own laughter. When he had it under control, he looked back at Anne. “Don’t tell me, let me guess-- actual anecdote. Some poor bastard thought you made empty threats.” If that was what needed to happen, that was fine. So long as she was okay.

Kirk felt Anne’s shoulders rise as she took a deep breath, and then she crumbled, laughing silently and shaking her head. “Twice,” she admitted, resting her head against the side of his chest.

“Two different guys, or same guy twice?” he asked, glancing at Claudia. She was almost finished with Anne’s hand, and her cheeks were looking a bit flushed.

Anne saw where he was looking, and glanced up at him with mischief in her eyes. “Same guy twice. Not a quick learner. I had to escalate things after that.”

He knew what she was looking for. “Hail to the fallen,” he said, in as doleful a tone as he could muster.

Claudia lost her battle with laughter then, he shoulders shaking as she tried to keep herself silent. Pressing the back of her hand to her mouth, she rode it out in relative quiet, unable to suppress her grin even once she’d finished. “All right, stretch your hands and close them a few times,” she said, stowing her gear and fishing something out of her bag. While Anne did so, Claudia looked up at Kirk and beckoned for his hand. Dropping a small packet into it, Claudia said, “Since this is especially relevant to you, you’re getting the instructions too. She needs to take one with some water right before she goes to sleep, and I mean _immediately_ before she goes to sleep or she’ll stop making sense.”

Low hanging fruit. Kirk didn’t bother to take the shot, just exchanged a glance with Anne that left them both grinning.

Noting their silent communication, Claudia raised an eyebrow in amusement, but continued without comment. “On the off chance that it makes the nightmares worse, which can happen in rare cases, discontinue immediately and let me or Leonard know. One of us will prescribe something else. If neither of us is available at the moment, tell the doctor you speak to that Anne needs her med list reviewed before she’s given anything.”

“Got it,” Kirk said. “Thanks, doc. Now, can you do something about violence and aggression because-- ow!” He pretended to wince away from Anne’s pointed little elbow in his side. It hadn’t actually hurt. Mostly.

“From what I can see, you’re earning that all on your own,” Claudia said dryly. “Anne, call me if you need backup and stop feeding him meat. He’s starting to think he’s in charge.”

“Hey. I _do_ decide where the ship goes, you know.”

Anne sighed a long-suffering sigh and put a hand on the small of his back, ushering him away. “Of course you do,” she said sweetly, adding over her shoulder, “Have a good night, Dr. Hayes.”

Once the med bay’s doors slid closed behind them, they could have moved apart but didn’t. Kirk figured it was probably all over the ship already anyway. “Well, that was refreshing. Remind me to try making jokes next time she starts yelling at me.”

“She learned somewhere to be angry instead of worried if she has the choice. Doesn’t make it any easier to take sometimes.” Anne shrugged. “At least you have a rebound lined up for when I’m gone.”

“...excuse me?” Kirk asked, wondering what he’d missed.

Anne didn’t look at him. “That is, unless Dr. McCoy gets there first.”

“Wait, hold on a sec,” Kirk said, and then realized he didn’t know which question to ask first. “Explain.”

Looking up at him, Anne laughed silently. “Oh, she’s too subtle for you, huh?”

“Is that why she’s been angry about you and me?” Kirk asked, wondering what Anne had seen that he hadn’t.

“God no. She’s not that kind of person.” They stepped into the turbolift, and Kirk gave it instructions, then Anne continued, “If she was, I wouldn’t have stuck around for this much digging through my head.”

“Fair enough,” Kirk said. After a moment, when it seemed like Anne wouldn’t continue, he prompted her. “So how do you know this?”

Anne looked up at him, her eyes bright with amusement. Just then, the turbolift opened, and she didn’t reply until they’d stepped out, as if she was considering her answer. “I pay attention.” At his raised eyebrows, she laughed. “You don’t actually think I’m going to tell you, do you?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, halfway between amusement and pique. “Look, I am really, really good at noticing that sort of thing, and I had no clue. She always just seemed mad at us.”

She dropped her head against his chest again, and Kirk saw a crew member do a double-take at the sight of them. “Ugh. Okay, if you were anyone else, I would just let you wonder,” Anne said. Kirk gave the crew member a brief, businesslike smile of acknowledgment and dismissal. “She orients her body differently around you and Dr. McCoy, and only you two. She always has her hair tied back when she knows she's going to see either of you, probably because she caught herself playing with it when you were around at least once that I saw. Her pupils dilate when she looks at either of you. Do I need to continue?”

“Huh.” Kirk turned it over in his head, and couldn’t decide if he was more impressed by Dr. Hayes for hiding it, or Anne for noticing anyway and being able to articulate it. “I think I got it. Do me a favor and don’t tell Bones about this, all right?”

Lifting her head, Anne looked up at him in surprise. “Why? Keeping your options open?” she teased.

“Maybe you shouldn’t get too sure of me,” he teased back, only realizing afterward that it could have been a very unfortunate joke to make. Anne knew better, though; her eyes never even flickered. “Actually, I just know Bones. I don’t want to lose one of my ship’s doctors in the divorce.”

Anne’s silver brows climbed toward her hairline. “The marrying kind, is he?”

“Over and over,” Kirk sighed. His door slid open for them, and he glanced around as they walked in, satisfied once he saw the place.

It took a moment longer for Anne to notice; he knew when she had because she slowed. “It’s clean,” she said, looking questioningly up at him.

“We do have staff for that. Technically it’s a perk, but I’m used to taking care of myself.” Kirk shrugged. “I sent them a message. Figured we needed the break tonight.”

That one ridiculous dimple showed up again, her smile adorably crooked. She stood up on tiptoe, brushing a kiss against his mouth. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful,” she said shyly.

He scoffed, letting go of her, although he couldn’t help a grin of his own. “No,” he answered, walking over to one of the cupboards. Yep, right where he’d expected it. He pulled out the bottle of rum he’d had the staff bring him. No point in not stocking the liquor supply, especially when they were drinking twice as much as he usually did. “This was the thoughtful part.”

Why wasn’t he surprised that she recognized the bottle? “Huh,” she said, clearly impressed. “That’s not a very well known label. Or variety, for that matter.” She looked up at him. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never gotten my hands on one.”

“One of the crew on the Endeavour had relatives. I asked her to grab me a couple bottles while we were waiting for the Enterprise to be finished. I know you like rum best, thought you might like this one.” He went to open the bottle, seeing her eyes widen, and quickly broke the seal before she could start her protest, let alone finish it. “Oh, sorry, were you going to say something?”

Anne blew out a sigh. “That really should have been saved for a special occasion. Those are hard to come by out here.”

“I’m sure it’s a holiday on some planet,” Kirk said, briefly considering swigging some from the bottle. He then immediately did it, and was gratified when all Anne did was hold out her hand once he was finished. The rum itself was interesting and more than worth the price he’d paid, tasting cleanly of licorice and cane undergrowth. He gave her the bottle.

She lifted the bottle to her lips, savoring it with a curiously sexual little purr-- or, well, maybe he just connected it with sex now. Considering. When she opened her eyes, she immediately shoved the bottle at him. “Get that away from me if you want any more of it,” she said.

Laughing, Kirk turned toward the synthesizer, saying over his shoulder, “Go sit down, I’ll get you a glass.”

“Mmm. Bring it to bed, or we’ll finish the bottle.” Kirk glanced over just in time to see Anne’s dress come off, that amazing ass of hers making the Starfleet-issue briefs look like lingerie as she disappeared into the bedroom.

Sighing in enjoyment, Kirk poured himself some of the rum and took a swallow, then poured a decent slug into both glasses and capped it, setting it on the table. There were some drawbacks to his current living arrangement, but they were far, far outweighed by the benefits, at least with his current companion. He picked up the glasses and followed her, unable and unwilling to stifle his grin.


	37. Chapter 37

Looking back, Anne could never quite remember how things started or who’d woken up who, but it took until midafternoon for them to keep their hands off each other long enough to scrounge up some food and check for anything that needed their attention. Spock had left a message for both her and Uhura saying that there were some pots and soil in one of the science labs. Uhura had suggested a time for them to get together. Anne tapped out thanks and acceptance with shaky fingers. Jim dropped a tray of snacks on the nightstand and collapsed back onto the bed near where she sat, then seemed to notice how close that put him to her thigh and gently sank his teeth into it. Anne fumbled and nearly dropped the padd, gasping as a shiver ran up her spine. “Oh my god, stop, wait, I just have one more message here.”  


Obviously knowing she didn't mean it, Jim ignored her, pushing himself up and letting his lips trail further up her thigh. Anne quickly checked the last message, hoping to reply to it before she got carried away. It was from Mr. Chekov, who’d asked her to meet him in the sensor lab in… one hour. And he’d sent the message first thing that morning. “Shit.” Anne quickly tapped out an acceptance and an apology.

Jim paused. “Hmm?”

“Mr. Chekov needs to see me in an hour.”

Teeth grazed the inside of her thigh. “Tell him two hours. At least.”

“Shit. I already said yes.” Anne sighed and logged out of the padd, tossing it away. It hit the end of the bed and slid off, thumping on the floor.

“Uh-oh,” Jim said, with an extreme lack of concern. “I guess I’ll just have to give you a reason to come back quick.”

Anne’s answer was just an inarticulate noise as his lips found a sensitive spot.

Nearly an hour later, Anne was dreamily shrugging into a dress, something short and loose and flowing, her hair still wet from the shower and pinned up and out of her way. Kirk lay on the bed, skin still flushed and damp, a hint of a very satisfied smile on his lips. Tugging the high neckline of her dress straight, Anne let her eyes sweep over him, thoroughly regretting that she had to leave instead of cuddling up to his side and just… She cut herself off. If she wasn’t careful, she would be late.

“I am not kissing you goodbye, because if I do, I won’t leave,” she said, taking a step toward the door.

Kirk opened an eye, his grin widening. “Aww, come on.”

A twist of hunger started low in her at the sound of his voice, the little growl in it even more tempting than he already was lying naked on the bed like that. It was ridiculous to still want him so much after they'd spent the entire morning catering to their desire. “That would really be pushing it,” Anne said, knowing it was a terrible idea. “Even if I didn’t decide to stay, you might decide to keep me.”

“I promise, I won’t do anything,” he said. “Come on. We can handle it. We’re adults.”

Anne sighed. This was definitely a bad idea. “Fine,” she said, walking the few quick steps over to the bed. She laid a hand on his chest, leaning down to kiss him, and wondered what she was getting into.

Several minutes later she heard a padd chiming, and she tore her lips and hands away from him. It took more effort than it should have. “You liar,” she said, trying to catch her breath, resettling her panties and her dress. “I’m late. Goddamn it.”

“It’s too hard to be an adult on my day off,” Kirk said, flipping the blankets over himself and closing his eyes. “Bring me some coffee when you get back.”

“Ugh. Fine. But I’m adding ‘lazy, entitled piece of shit’ to the list.” Anne turned and strode to the door, grinning.

“Descriptive. I like it. See you later,” he said behind her, not insulted in the least.

When she reached the sensor lab, Mr. Chekov was the only one inside, tapping equations into the computer. His face brightened when he saw her. “Ms. Hardesty, I vas just about to send you a message--”

“I’m so sorry,” Anne said, hoping she didn't sound too breathless. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting--”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, I vas finishing calculations for ze others anyvay. If you vill please sit here,” he gestured to the chair next to him, “I vill implant ze monitor and ve can start calibration.”

Hurrying over to the indicated seat, Anne unobtrusively resettled the wide neckline of her dress, regretting her absent-minded choice of clothing. Jim had left a small mark on her shoulder at some point, and it would have been terribly gauche to show it off. Besides, there had been some definite signs of interest from Mr. Chekov, and it wouldn’t be polite to rub it in. Taking her seat, she crossed her legs, suddenly very aware of how short her skirt was, and how unsettled Jim’s hands had made her.

Mr. Chekov was polite; he glanced, but it was almost inadvertent and his eyes didn’t linger on her legs. When he lifted the hypospray, however, she saw him hesitate for a moment, and then his other hand came up, delicately touching her chin. The air suddenly seemed to congeal, and Anne felt her heart rate jump. “Turn your head like so, please,” Mr. Chekov said, guiding her head to the side and tilting it.

The very, very light touch on her chin reminded her of the night Jim had kissed her-- but the tension now had no outlet, and seemed stronger for it. Anne knew that it would take about a minute and a half of effort to get this adorable young man into bed, if she so chose. Maybe only a minute, if he didn’t care that she was living with his Captain. Anne found herself toying with the idea, watching him from the corner of her eye. She had never been the monogamous type.

Something must have shifted in him as well, because she saw his gaze flick to her lips, her eyes, and then back to the job at hand. “Perheps zis is not the best injection site,” he said, his fingers sliding along her jaw and his thumb rubbing over the spot behind her ear, sensual only because she was aware of the attraction between the two of them. “Zere is a wery small trace of metal in the implant. Detectable, but I had planned to hide it behind your earring so thet it vould not register as odd.” His thumb rubbed over that spot again, and then he let go of her jaw. “I did not realize your ears vere not pierced. Zat is uncommon.”

Anne looked back at him head-on, raising her eyebrows. “I’m not sure what to do if that won’t work. I could pierce my ears, I suppose. I don’t think it would be remarked on.”

“Do you hev any other implants zat could mask ze monitor?” he asked, his serious eyes staying on her face. “A joint, perheps, or a regulator?”

Anne shook her head. “Just the other implant. They haven’t put it back in yet, though.”

He nodded once. “Zat vill do. It only needs to be close enough zat a medical scan vill not see it as a separate item.” He looked her over, attempting to hide his appreciation and succeeding-- almost. “Vhere vas it?”

She had to stop herself from laughing, although she didn’t hide her amusement. Uncrossing her legs, she drew up her skirt, leaving her hand between her legs to hold it in place… although she knew that it wouldn’t look quite that innocent. It didn’t feel innocent either, not with the way Jim had left her. Flicking her eyes downward, she said, “Just there, where the scar is.”

He followed her gaze, and then looked back upward to her face, surprised. There was a moment when Anne could see the flicker of desire burning away his confusion, but his gaze moved back down and he appeared to try to keep his mind on the job. “Hmm.” After a moment, he looked back up at her. “It vill vork, but… do you mind?” he asked, his free hand moving to hover near her thigh. At her murmur of assent, his hand came down, warm and firm, easing her leg to the side. Surprisingly confident for a young man. She suddenly recalled what Jim had said about Mr. Chekov using his innocence.

“Is that all right, Mr. Chekov?” Anne said, spreading her legs. Really, the man had to have some room to work.

A flash of answering humor flitted through his eyes. “Under ze circumstances, Pavel vill do,” he said, his voice ironic.

Oof. A sense of humor, too. She _could_ … “Pavel.” Anne inclined her head, her amusement solidifying further. She could, but… she didn't _really_ want to. Not when she had Jim waiting for her at home. “I should apologize to you, I think. I must have seemed very rude when we spoke in the lounge. That was not my intention.”

The sideways reminder of Kirk did seem to hit the mark, although he didn’t lift his hand. Anne couldn’t disapprove. She liked some nerve. “No offense vas taken. Perheps some other time you vill join me in a game of kadis-kot. You _and_ ze Keptain, of course.”

Anne couldn't help a smile. How sweet-- she could tell his offer was genuine. While she didn’t regret Jim, she did regret, a little, that even a taste would make her feel guilty. That wasn't normal for her, but… Jim was the exception to all her rules, it seemed. “That’s a very kind offer, Pavel. We’ll take you up on that sometime, both of us.”

“It vould be my pleasure,” he said, then looked back down at her thigh, bringing the hypospray to the side of the scar. “For now, ve should finish this. Ze implant vill take more testing, as it vill need to gather information from further avay.”

Just because she was strangely attached to Jim didn't mean she had to be bored. She couldn't see Pavel doing anything beyond flirting back after that reminder, even if she was at her most outrageous. “Don’t be in such a rush,” she said, her voice becoming teasingly suggestive. “I’m just fine where I am.”

Chekov gave her a very speculative look, then triggered the hypospray. It stung her thigh, maybe a little worse than the regular sprays did. She hissed in pain, and he automatically ran his hand over the spot, the pressure soothing it. Or at least it got her mind on things other than the pain. Chekov left his hand on her thigh for a beat longer, and then lifted it, his mouth curving in a little smile. “You are quite velcome to stay as you are for as long as you like,” he said as he turned to the computer, setting the hypo down and starting to tap out commands.  

Chuckling, Anne crossed her legs again, the scarred one on top, and didn’t pull down her skirt. “How hospitable of you,” she teased, resting her elbow on the arm of the chair and her chin in her palm. “Are you a hospitable sort of guy, Pavel? How many of the women here on board would say so?”

He gave her a flirtatious little glance as he picked up a sensor, then turned back to her to run it along the spot where he’d injected the monitor. “A few,” he said, pressing the sensor to the skin.

It was colder than it should have been; Anne gasped softly, noting a brief flicker of desire in his eyes. “I think you’re being modest. You know, I dated a Russian man once. He used to call me something, but he wouldn't tell me what it meant. Mishka. Does that make sense?”

“It means ‘little mouse,’” Pavel said, rolling the sensor over to a different part of her thigh. “It vas probably because you are wery small. You have… fine bones.” He grinned. “Zat is not vhat I vould call you, though. Lisichka, maybe.”

That was one Anne had never heard before. “Oh? And what does that mean?”

“I should let you find out for yourself,” he said, removing the sensor, and then turning back to the computer to tap in some more data, grinning.

“That’s not fair. If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to guess until I get it right,” Anne said, straightening in her chair. “Hmm. It ends in -ka, so it’s a diminutive.”

“Yes,” he said, tapping in more numbers. “Do you know wery much Russian?”

“No, not very much. A little. Pozhaluysta, spasibo, just the most basic things any traveler will pick up.” Anne smiled at him. “Lisichka, right?” she asked, taking care to pronounce it the way he had.

“Wery good,” he said, sounding impressed with her mimicry.

“It must be some kind of animal,” Anne mused. “Not a cat, I do know that one.”

“Correct, it is an animal but not a cat.” Pavel’s grin widened. “I vill give you a hint: it has pointed ears like a cat.”

“You made it too easy,” Anne laughed. “It’s a fox, isn’t it?”

“Correct. Lisichka means ‘little fox,’” he said, glancing back at her, clearly enjoying her laughter. “Foxes are also fine-boned, and they are wery intelligent and cunning tricksters. Russians hev alvays been fascinated by zem.”

Anne raised her eyebrows again, catching the subtext implied by the name. “Well, how very flattering. Thank you, Pavel.” She grinned at him. “What about you? Are you a nickname kind of guy?”

He picked up the sensor once again, and rested it against her thigh. Despite the fact that she could feel the warmth of his hand on her skin, he was careful not to touch her. “Depending on ze nickname, I might not be opposed to it.”

“Good,” Anne said promptly. “Because kotyonok suits you.”

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her. “Vhy is that?” he asked, bemused.

Anne let her eyelids lower just a hint. “You should probably look up the old slang meaning of ‘tomcatting’.”

Curious, he nodded, then typed one-handed into the computer while holding the sensor against her leg. After reading the definition, he started to chuckle. “You may hev a point there.”

“I know I do,” Anne said, still watching from under lowered lashes. “And who doesn’t want to hold a kitten? They just beg to be stroked. I'm quite fond of them myself.”

He had that innocent look again, the one that Anne was starting to realize was him at his most audacious. “In thet case, you may call me kotyonok if I may call you lisichka. It vould only be fair.” 

What a terrible flirt he was. How fun. “Sounds good to me.”

Their conversation continued in that vein for some time, the two of them making plays on words and innuendos that were clearly just for fun while he made adjustments to the sensors, making sure they were perfectly keyed in. Eventually, he sighed and blanked the computer screen. “Beautiful lisichka, I no longer hev an excuse to keep you here. You may go back to your day, and perheps next time I see you in the lounge you vill come and hev a drink with me, vith or vithout the Keptain, as he pleases.”

“Of course I will.” Anne stood, then gently laid a hand on his arm, stilling him. Before he could second-guess her, she flashed him a mischievous grin and stood on tiptoe, planting a kiss on his cheek before stepping back. “Enjoy yourself, kotyonok. Do svidaniya.”

As she left the room, she heard him mutter softly, “Bozhe moi,” and couldn’t help a surge of smug satisfaction.

Kirk was not yet out of bed when she returned to their quarters, so Anne dialed up some Turkish style coffee and breezed into the bedroom, balancing the tray on one hand. There was nothing left of their snacks from earlier but crumbs; she stacked the tray on top of the older one and began to kick off her shoes. Kirk’s eyes opened, either the scent of coffee or the small noises she’d made waking him, and he grinned sleepily, reaching out and catching her wrist in a light grip. She’d found it easier and easier to let him do things like that the more used to it she was. “Good morning, cher,” she teased softly. She’d called him that once before, in bed, and told a little white lie about why. Just out of habit. Maybe he’d ask about it again… and if he did, she might tell the truth.

Gently, he tugged on her arm, drawing her onto the bed beside him. “Good morning,” he answered, his fingers skating under the edge of her dress, easing it up. That was fine. That was good too. Who needed food anyway?

Kirk’s intentions were clear, and Anne did nothing to stop him. She helped him get the dress off her, then sank down on the bed beside him as he got rid of the rest of her clothes. “You’re lucky I made it back,” she said. “Pavel is a little charmer when he wants to be.”

Jim’s hands hesitated, then he finished stripping off her brassiere. “I’d gotten that impression, yes.” Pushing himself up to lean on his elbow, he began to take her hair down. “Did you want to let him charm you?” he asked evenly, his eyes just a bit guarded.

There was a momentary temptation to say yes and deal with the fallout, run back to her old normality of strings of lovers, but Anne could recognize that desire as both false and self-destructive. “Not really. It’s flattering, but I like where I am.”

The guarded look went out of his eyes, replaced by affectionate desire. “But a little bit,” he teased, dropping her hairpins on the tray near the coffee.

“A little. He’s adorable. I’m going to call him ridiculous pet names and flirt shamelessly. I hope that doesn’t bother you.” Anne ran her hand down Jim’s chest, tracing where the edge of the blanket met his skin.

“Who doesn’t flirt?” Jim asked, flipping the covers back and gathering her up against him. “I’d like to keep the rest of you for myself, though.” His hand slid down, moving beneath her panties.

Anne arched her back, lifting her hips so that he could help her wriggle her panties off. That bit of possessiveness made her want to shiver. “Sounds good to me,” she murmured, drawing him down into a kiss that quickly turned heated.

A while later, he asked between kisses, “How long before we have to get up?”

“Four hours,” she replied, her hands already wandering lower.

He murmured against her mouth, sounding satisfied. “Let’s get some music on in here.” At his command, the computer began to play something she recognized, something with a good beat and ridiculous lyrics. Anne laughed and bit his lip, urging him over her, at once full of hunger and utterly content.


	38. Chapter 38

Anne was quite refreshed by the time she left to get the pots and soil from the science lab, having exhausted herself and Jim, then taken a quick nap. Uhura was going to be meeting her in Jim’s quarters, and Jim had said he would go to see Spock and McCoy, check on progress, all that sort of thing. He couldn’t leave work alone, even when he was supposed to be taking the day off. Anne could relate. She'd never been able to leave her writing alone before all this happened.  


When Uhura arrived, he still hadn’t left-- he’d been watching, bemused, as Anne had begun setting out her preparations. When the door chirped, he was the one who’d answered. “Come in.”

“Hello, Captain,” Uhura said as she walked in. “Are you staying for the lesson?”

“Nah. Not my sort of thing. I’m gonna go make the rounds. You girls have fun.” As Kirk walked past Anne, he slid an arm around her waist and drew her close, his lips brushing against her cheek. Anne felt herself blush as he released her, darting a glance toward Uhura, who laughed silently. Kirk walked out, whistling.

“My, my,” Uhura said after the door slid shut behind him. “You two have it bad.”

Anne shook her head. She didn't want to think about just how bad they had it. Bad enough that she wasn't keeping her distance. She cut the thought off, steeling herself and saying, “It’s easier than it should be, really.”

“How do you mean?” Uhura asked, approaching the table where Anne had the supplies laid out, plus a bottle of wine and some snacks.

“Does this mean I get to ask you what being with a Vulcan is like?” Anne asked, not entirely serious. Well, maybe a little. Spock was… interesting, and not for the normal reasons she was interested in men.

“If you want.” Uhura answered, smiling a little.

Anne picked up the wine bottle and poured a glass, holding it out to Uhura, who took it from her. “All right. In that case, I don’t mind answering.” She poured for herself and took a quick sip of the rosé. “No future means no responsibility, which means we get to erase all this once we’re done.”

“You could stay on the ship. Starfleet has made exceptions before.” Uhura watched her over the rim of her wine glass.

Anne shook her head again. “It would never work. I’m too antisocial to be stuck with the same people all the time.” She set her glass down and pulled the pots closer, unstacking them. “No thanks.” At the moment she was getting by on the fact that her work didn't need her to talk much.

“I have to take your word for that, and that’s hard to do when you seem fine with it now. And he seems so much more… content.” Uhura took the pot Anne handed her and watched as Anne emptied some soil into a large-ish container.

Even if she could get over her own issues… “What would it say about him if he essentially brought a parasite along? I’m in no way suitable to hold a permanent position, and it’s better for him if I don’t try. We’ve got no reason to risk that.”

Uhura sighed, putting her free hand on her hip. “It’s still… It feels unfair. You light up around him, and he… well. He’s happier. I can tell.” She laughed softly. “Everyone can tell.”

“I know,” Anne said softly, her hands stilling in the tub of dirt. “He mentioned me to his mother.”

“Ouch.” Uhura sighed. “Well, at least he’s serious, for once. I didn’t tell you, did I, that the first time he met me he was hitting on me in a bar? It was just before he joined up.”

“No, you only said he grabbed you,” Anne chuckled. “Here, I’m just mixing some sand and coffee grounds into the soil for acid and drainage. Tell me about it while I work, and watch the proportions I’m using.” She paused, then raised her eyebrows at Uhura. “Might as well make it a party. Computer, music.” Anne ordered up a few music selections, with Uhura adding input.

As Uhura related her tale, Anne worked the soil, getting dirt on herself and her wineglass and everything in between. Before long Uhura was helping her, fingernails encrusted in soil. As a younger man Kirk had been quite a bit more reckless, and less focused on the ship and his career. In fact, that career had been nonexistent; he’d only developed a taste for Starfleet after he’d joined up. Anne couldn’t really relate. She’d loved writing since the day she’d first put pen to paper, and the last year had left her feeling barren with the lack of it. Her recent attempts had all been failures.  But Uhura had landed on the same side as Anne, her course set from a very young age, her exceptional hearing and linguistic skills coinciding with a passion that Anne reflected was necessary to serving aboard the flagship.

“I can’t believe you bullied Spock into putting you on the Enterprise,” Anne teased, grabbing for her wine glass, leaving crumbs of dirt on the table.

“I didn’t bully! I just made sure he knew where I would be most useful,” Uhura said, patting soil into a pot. 

“Of course,” Anne said demurely. “I’m glad it’s worked out well for you, though. I would never have had the nerve to ask for that in the first place.”

“Now that I don’t believe. You’re clearly someone who gets what she wants.” Uhura considered the pot, and then added another scoop of dirt. “This won’t be too tightly packed?”

“That’s fine.” Anne set the last of the pots aside and brought forward the packet of seeds, spilling them out onto the table. The tiny corrugated brown nodules went everywhere. “Having to ask makes me feel like I don’t deserve it. Even getting recognized makes me feel that way.”

“Is that why you never gave any interviews or anything about your work?” Uhura asked, sweeping her hand along the table to collect up the seeds.

“Probably. I don’t really think about it.” Anne started to divide up the seeds, placing half of them in a small bowl of water. “I’m going to try soaking these ones to see if I can get them to germinate faster. It usually takes about three weeks.” Uhura nodded and began to set half of the pots aside. Hoping to derail the line of questioning about her work, Anne asked, “So you and Spock have been together for a long time, huh?”

Uhura shot her a sharp glance, but answered anyway. “Since I was in the Academy. We broke up for a little while, right around the time the first Enterprise was destroyed, but we got back together.”

“Don’t you miss being single?” Anne asked, curious. She couldn’t imagine not missing being single. Then again, she didn’t miss it now.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like anything would be better than being in love with a Vulcan. Most times I can’t imagine what I’d do without him.” Uhura smiled fondly. “He can be frustrating. He’s half-human, the first Vulcan-human to ever be born, but he acts like he’s entirely Vulcan sometimes. We’ve had some rough spots because of the differences in communication.”

“I can only imagine,” Anne said, pulling one of the pots toward her. She had the feeling that Spock was especially complicated that way. After demonstrating the depth, she and Uhura began to seed the pots. “Vulcans are very internally vivid people, and very controlled externally. I can see how that would cause issues.”

“Affection is hard for him to express. Sometimes I have to depend on knowing what he feels rather than demonstrations.” Uhura shot Anne a sidelong glance, appearing to debate saying something, then added, “Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t have been easier if I’d just gone along with it when the Captain had first met me. He was a jerk, but weirdly charming anyway.”

Anne laughed softly, looking down at the pot between her hands. Uhura was digging for jealousy, but she wouldn’t find it. “I can believe that. I get the feeling time has worn some of those rough edges off him. Time and friendships, maybe.”

“Spock would wear the rough edges off a grinder,” Uhura laughed, apparently satisfied. “Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but sometimes he’s just infuriating. The Captain has gotten into it with him too.” She paused, then seemed to decide something about Anne and added, “Spock was the reason Captain Kirk was busted back down to Commander once, did he tell you that?”

Anne blinked, surprised. “He told me it had happened, but he never mentioned Spock. He just said it was because he’d broken some rules.”

Shaking her head, Uhura sighed, “That’s just like him. Yeah, he broke some rules all right-- saving all the intelligent life on one planet against the Prime Directive, and accidentally influencing their culture by letting the ship be seen because Spock was about to die in a volcano and we had to get in close to beam him up.”

That made so much sense that Anne had to laugh again. “Would you believe he looked at me funny when I told him he was a moral person?”

Uhura began to snicker too. “Oh, I believe it. Either of them, really. They’re a lot more alike than they want to think. Spock would just give you some logical excuse for why morals had nothing to do with his actions. I think he considers the idea of moral reasoning to be an oxymoron.”

Scoffing, Anne went to pour herself another glass of wine and found that the bottle was empty. “Philosophically speaking, that’s ridiculous. All reasoning is inherently moral reasoning, because you can't escape your own moral bias. Here, this is all almost finished. If you want to go wash your hands, I’ll clean up and then we can grab another bottle.”

“Sounds good,” Uhura said, promptly ignoring Anne’s direction and helping with the cleanup.

“All of you,” Anne said as they worked. “I’d mentioned morals and ideals in reference to you and Spock at first. But you know, the more I learn about everyone on board here, the more I realize that it’s everyone, and especially the group of your friends.”

Uhura smiled. “That’s a lovely compliment. Thank you. Wouldn’t you put yourself in that same category?”

“No,” Anne said. “Not that I don’t wish I was, but I’d say I’m pretty morally compromised. Then again, I’ve never had something that I cared about the way you all care about the ship and each other.”

It was Uhura’s turn to scoff then. “If you’re so morally compromised, why are you insisting on going along with me?”

Taken aback, Anne could only blink at Uhura for a moment, and then she sealed up the container of soil and set it aside. “That’s different,” she said. She had a lot of reasons to need to be a part of the infiltration. “Anyway, let’s go wash up.”

After cleaning her hands in the larger washroom off the main room and grabbing another bottle of wine from the food synthesizer, Anne settled on the couch with Uhura, pouring them each another glass. It was a red this time, the same one Jim had brought to her quarters that once. After a short silence, Uhura asked, “Are you really okay with doing this?”

Closing her eyes, Anne damped back her emotions as best she could. “I have to be.”

“The Captain would prefer it if you didn’t go,” Uhura said. “No one would blame you. It’s great that you want to help, but… no one wants to put you in a position where you might face any more of that. I’ll do my best to get you out in time, but...”

The allusion to the definite physical and potential sexual violence Anne would be facing was clear enough, although no one so far had mentioned the latter. Anne wasn’t about to bring it up herself. It would only muddy the issue. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I know he doesn’t want me to go. I also know if I don’t go, and this doesn’t work, it’ll be my fault. I can’t live with that when other people are willing risk so much for it.”

Uhura made a disgusted noise. “That’s something I’d hear one of us say. Better check those morals.”

“That’s a dead end. I already know I’ll cross my morals if it means I’ll survive.” Anne pulled her feet up on the couch, curling them beneath her. No matter whether Uhura was trying to fit her into that box, she wasn’t one of them and never would be. She knew that. “Jim won’t cross his morals. That’s why he’s not going to stop me. It can’t be easy living like that. If this is the normal caliber of Starfleet officers, I know I couldn’t hack it.”

“It sure doesn’t make life easier, either for him or Spock. I couldn’t believe it when Spock made that report and got the Captain demoted, but I know it wasn’t easy on him.” Uhura sipped her wine contemplatively. “It hit him hard when Jim died.”

Anne carefully frowned, trying to ignore her heart speeding up and her hands feeling shaky. “He died?”

Uhura’s gaze came back up to hers. “He didn’t tell you?” When Anne shook her head, Uhura made a little grimace. “Yeah, that’s not that surprising, I guess. He doesn’t like to talk about it, so I’ll tell you. He died realigning the warp core and saved everyone on the ship. Knocked Scotty out so he wouldn’t stop him. Spock lost it. McCoy managed to get Jim back with some classified stuff.”

“That sounds really harrowing,” Anne said noncommittally, mentally slamming her imagination shut and trying to calm her heartbeat. That was something she never, ever wanted to think about.

“It was. I’ve often wondered if that experience wasn’t…” Uhura shook her head. “He got in a serious relationship after that. Carol Marcus. They split when she left the ship. I’ve often wondered if it wasn’t dying that made him want to settle down a little.” She looked back at Anne again. “I was sort of relieved when he seemed to enjoy being around you so much. Not that I don’t think what he and Carol had was genuine, of course, but it was a stressful time and I couldn’t help but wonder if he would be with her if the rest of it hadn’t happened.”

“He seems to like her. She definitely still wants something with him.” At Uhura’s questioning look, Anne elaborated. “He got a call from Yorktown and it was her.” Anne shrugged. “I’m not going to let myself get territorial. It’s not like me, and it’s pointless.”

“Well, that’s awfully rational of you,” Uhura said, and Anne couldn’t help but feel it was as much a criticism as a compliment. “I doubt he thinks the same way.”

Anne shook her head, a little grin playing on her lips. “He was fine with me flirting around, but I got the definite message that I shouldn’t be crossing lines there. I’m all right with that.” Not that she really wanted to, anyway. Just… curious.

“Chekov.” Uhura snorted in amused disgust. “What a little brat he is. I was wondering what would happen with that.”

“Oh, you noticed, huh?” Anne chuckled, suddenly feeling like the conversation was hitting its stride. If Uhura had still been testing her, she would have done it here. “He’s not especially eager to bed the Captain’s lady, and I’m more than fine with what I have, but what a flirt. I’m not sure he’s old enough to handle me. He looks so young.”

“He’s twenty-three,” Uhura said. 

“Yeah, that’s a little out of my preferred hunting grounds. You should have heard what he said to me, though. By the time I left, he was calling me ‘beautiful lisichka.’” Anne hid her smile behind her wineglass. It was a ridiculous compliment, but it still felt good to hear.

Uhura groaned. “Oh my god, that kid. I swear, the Captain likes him because both of them were only after the same thing at that age.”

“Yeah, that’s the impression--”

The door slid open, and Anne glanced up. As soon as she saw Jim’s expression, his frowning brows and the determined set of his jaw, she knew what had happened. “Anne,” he began, Spock following him into the room.

“You found them,” Anne said. Before he could answer she slapped the controls on the table, changing the song to something that suited her mood better, and tossed back the rest of her wine. “No point in ruining our night over it. Let me get you a drink.” She stood up from the couch, slipping out of reach of his fingers as if she hadn’t noticed him reaching for her, walking over to the synthesizer.

“Nyota, we will need your expertise in the morning. We should retire for the evening and allow the Captain and Ms. Hardesty to do the same.” As Spock spoke, Anne heard Uhura set the wine glass down and get up from the couch.

“Anne,” Kirk said behind her as she punched in an order for another bottle of wine with shaking fingers. His hand came down on her shoulder, the other capturing hers as he stepped in closer. “Hey. Is there anything I can do?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.

Anne couldn’t meet his gaze for long. “Just… forget it. Help me forget it.”

She saw him nod, and then glanced over to where Uhura and Spock were standing. Uhura lifted a hand in farewell, and they stepped out of the room, no doubt going to spend their last night together before the mission. As soon as they were gone, Jim’s arms slid around her. “Sounds good. Tomorrow is early enough to deal with it. Tonight, let’s just relax.”

Grabbing the wine bottle from the synthesizer, Anne extracted the cork and poured him a glass. “That’s exactly what I intend.” Holding the glass up for him, she pressed against him, watching the wine tremble. At least she wouldn’t remember what she wouldn’t remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Some amazing person commissioned art from just after chapter 11!](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/173012732536/oh-my-god-someone-i-adore-commissioned-artwork)


	39. Chapter 39

The little runabout wasn’t ready to go until the next evening. Kirk had wanted to ask Sulu to take his shift so that he could be with Anne, but she’d had to go and get the implant put back in and her thigh scar removed. There wasn’t any point in staying with her when she was unconscious, and the ship needed him, especially now that he had something concrete to send to Command. So far the Farragut-A was en route, and Command had approved his plan. Once the base was under control and they had a head count of prisoners, they would dispatch whatever extra transportation was necessary. **  
**

He’d spent the time in between messages trying to decide on an adequate hiding place for the Enterprise and the Farragut-A. The nearest feature that would provide enough sensor interference to hide them was another asteroid belt, about half an hour away at warp five. It was acceptable, though only barely. Less than ten minutes at warp eight. Relaying the co-ordinates to the Farragut-A, he requested that the security teams that would be sent to the asteroid be briefed and that the senior officers who would be in charge of them come to the Enterprise for their briefings.

Then he had his own briefings to do. At least he knew Anne wasn’t having to sit through the repetition, slowly going insane while she waited for everything to be ready. He suspected Dr. Hayes would keep her under until it was almost time. With the way she’d reacted the night before, he knew it was what he would have done if he’d been in charge of her treatment. If he’d known for sure, he would have had to say something to Hayes about it, but as it was...

The sickened look had never quite left her eyes, despite her efforts to forget the inevitable. They’d talked, laughed, watched a movie, hell, they’d even had sex, close and intimate and intense, and still there had been that awful look in her eyes, like she was watching helplessly as a disaster happened.

He’d almost forbidden her from going. What had stopped him was that he had to weigh her pain against the lives of his crew. If it was just a matter of never being forgiven, he could have handled that, but there was no way he could justify not using any resource he had against Loche when he knew that the costs, when they happened, could be his crewmates and friends.

Too soon, everything was in readiness. He summoned those who weren’t already there to the shuttle bay, and contacted Hayes to ask if Anne was awake.

“It might be kinder to let her sleep,” Hayes said through the communicator. “I’m sure Spock could seal off her memories even in her sleep.”

“No,” Kirk answered. “It would be unethical.” And a violation of her trust. And she might change her mind. And he wanted to see her once more. And and and.

“Fine. I’ll bring her out of it when you get here,” Hayes said. “Leonard’s already gone to get his civilian clothes. Look, I think you should get out of uniform too. That way if Spock says you can stay...”

“Acknowledged,” he said. “Kirk out.” It was a good idea. He stood up from the Captain’s chair and saw Sulu and Chekov looking at him. “What is it?” he asked.

They glanced at each other, and then Sulu spoke. “Request permission to see off the away team.”

Kirk glanced from one to the other of them. “Permission granted, Mr. Sulu, Mr. Chekov. Williams, take the conn.” Without waiting for them, he strode off to the turbolift.

They allowed him the space to be by himself. Kirk made it to his quarters, changed, and got to the med bay without thinking too much about anything. Once he was there, Dr. Hayes gave Anne the counteractive for the sedative she was under, and Anne’s eyelids fluttered as she began to come out of it. As she began to wake, Kirk leaned on the examination table, watching her face. “Hey, gorgeous,” he murmured.

She seemed bewildered for a moment, then her eyes brightened. “Hey, cher,” she said, pushing up from the table. The simple grey shift she was wearing would suffice for whatever clothing she was supposed to bring along. It would look strange for her to have possessions. As he watched her reorient herself, he saw that sick look filter back in, making his heart ache. “Is it time?”

“‘Fraid so,” Kirk said. He helped her down from the table, noting when her dress rode up that the scar on her thigh was entirely gone.

“Better get it over with,” she said. Glancing over at Hayes, she said, “I’ll see you in a few days, Doctor.”

Hayes stilled, looking up from the padd she was tapping on. “Of course. I’ll be monitoring your physical stats from here, so if I see anything abnormal, the Captain will know immediately.”

Kirk wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a flicker of something in Anne’s eyes. “Good,” she said. Resting her hand on Kirk’s arm, she looked back to him. “Let’s go.”

He settled her hand into the crook of his arm and they left the med bay, heading for the shuttle bay.

When they arrived, everyone else was already there. Scotty, Mira, and Keenser were leaning against the runabout, talking to Chekov and Sulu while Uhura and Spock stood off to one side, murmuring to each other. Bones, looking distinctly ill-at-ease, stood as far away as he could get from the hatch without actually being in a different bay. The three members of the away team plus Spock were all in their civilian clothes.

“All right, people, let’s get started,” Kirk said as he and Anne drew near. Everyone approached them, grouping up around them. “You’ve all been adequately briefed?” There was a scatter of nods. “And you’ve got everything you need, Scotty, Bones, Uhura?” More assent. “You’re ready, Spock?”

“I am ready, Captain,” Spock answered.

“If there’s anything else anyone needs to say, now’s the time.” Silence. “Good. Say your goodbyes and get ready for departure.”

A flurry of quiet goodbyes were exchanged, and Scotty, Bones, Uhura, and Spock filed through the hatch of the Orion runabout. Kirk felt Anne’s fingers tighten on his arm as Sulu wished her a safe journey.

“Udachi, lisichka,” Chekov said to Anne.

“Spasibo, kotyonok moi,” she replied. Kirk knew she was thanking Chekov for something, but the rest of the exchange escaped him. He felt her take a deep breath, then she let go of his arm, walking quickly into the hatch.

“Head back to your posts. I’ll be there soon,” he said to the other three, then followed her.

Uhura and Scotty were already doing pre-flight checks; he could hear them at it. Bones and Spock were standing in the back compartment near the bunks. Anne approached them, her spine straight, head lifted high, like a queen going to her execution.

“Spock,” Kirk said, and Spock’s eyes immediately flicked to him. “Is it possible for me to stay until you’re finished?”

Spock had to think a moment. “I do not believe it will cause any insoluble issues, Captain.”

Almost immediately, Anne was in his arms. He could feel her trembling, her entire body shaking, and it was all he could do not to call it off then and there. The moment passed, though. Anne reached up, extracting the pins from her hair and pressing them into his hand. “I won’t want these,” she said quietly. “I won’t be able to use them.”

Spock’s voice was as bland as ever, though Kirk felt he could detect some reluctance in it. “If you would sit or lie down, Ms. Hardesty?”

“I’ll see you in a few days, tiger. You’ll be all right.” Kirk kissed the top of her head, and then her lips, when she lifted them.

She tore herself away from the kiss too soon, almost as soon as it had started. “When we get back to Yorktown, I want to go dancing,” she said, pulling away from him, only letting her hand linger in his as she seated herself on the bunk.

Bones pulled out a tricorder, scanning as Spock approached Anne, monitoring them in case anything went wrong.

“Does that mean I have to dress up?” Kirk asked, grinning just a little.

“It’ll give me something to look forward to,” Anne said, the corners of her mouth turning upward, her misty grey eyes shadowed.

“All right,” Kirk said, just as Spock reached towards Anne’s face.

It seemed to take forever. He knew it was a more complex endeavor than just reading memories, but nevertheless, it seemed to take too long. Kirk found himself squeezing Anne’s hand as if to reassure her even though he knew she wouldn’t register much of it.

It took a moment for her to come out of it once Spock lifted his hand. Kirk felt her grip loosen, and let her hand slide away. Suddenly, she was awake, her eyes darting between the three of them, her body tensed in readiness. He saw her look at his face, and there was no recognition. Her eyes stayed curiously blank and wary, her expression guarded. Instead of that jumpiness she’d first had, she seemed to be bracing, like someone was going to wind up and slap her and she wanted to be ready to absorb it.

“I think we’re done here,” Bones said. The way she looked-- didn't look-- at Kirk was intolerable.

“Agreed,” Spock answered. “It is time to depart.” Kirk could see nothing reflected in her eyes, just a blank expanse, like an iced-over lake under a grey sky.

“Good luck,” Kirk said to Bones, and while he saw Anne register his voice, again, there was no recognition.

Having said his goodbyes already, Spock brushed past him, leaving through the hatch. It took Kirk a moment longer to make himself turn away; he kept expecting her to say goodbye or something, to acknowledge him somehow, and the lack of it was as jarring as a missing stair. The only acknowledgment she made of anyone was to subtly move herself away as Bones passed nearer to her. Kirk turned and left the runabout. There was nothing to say.

Once outside the hatch closed behind him and he stood back, watching the runabout lift off. He felt curiously hollow, as if he should have been feeling something and wasn’t. Once the runabout had left the shuttle bay, he turned, meaning to go back to the bridge, trying not to think about the empty quarters he would go home to that night. It would be better to bury himself in work, and that was what Kirk had intended to do as he walked to the shuttle bay doors.

The bulkhead to the side of the doors didn’t dent, not visibly. His knuckles, however, split painfully, bleeding, and the hairpins Anne had given him dug into his hand with the force of his punch. Kirk decided he would go to the med bay, and _then_ lose himself in work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole next section was informed by a specific song I was listening to; strangely, I had come up with all the elements on my own before I ever heard the song, but it matched so well with both the plot and imagery that it intertwined itself inextricably with the story. If you listen to it, you may notice that it’s literally Anne’s point of view; that was accidental to begin with, and then became intended over time.
> 
> _[Cœur de Pirate - Ocean’s Brawl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFnW_tdWwHQ)_


	40. Chapter 40

Everything about this ship was unfamiliar. Everything. It didn’t even smell right… although she had to admit, warily, that it smelled better than the Sorte. There were only three other people aboard that she could tell, one a rough-looking man whose pallor belied his apparent ease. He showed all the classic signs of fear-- bloodless clammy skin, trembling hands, dilated pupils-- but as he didn’t speak to anyone, Anne didn’t know what fear it was that he was fighting. He lay on the bunk across from her, seeming to try to read something on a padd. There were two people in what she assumed was the cockpit. One of the voices was heavily accented, Scottish. The other was female and pleasant, confident, and seemed… familiar, somehow. Was the woman another captive? She didn’t sound like one. **  
**

Where were the other two? The one, Vulcan or Romulan, dark hair, looking uncomfortable in his clothes. The other… she didn’t know. Something about him made his presence elusive, his bright blue eyes the only thing she could remember.

Waking up had been so jumbled. Had the Sorte crashed? Was that why she was here?

Could she ask them?

It wasn’t as if she was confined. No one sounded aggressive. No one had made any threatening moves. She wasn’t sure the man across from her could have handled it-- he looked as if he was holding on by his fingertips as it was.

Anne huddled further into the corner. She was clean, her arm was fixed, and nothing hurt, although there were a few tender places and a deep satisfaction that suggested she had been getting more than one kind of exercise recently. There were no bruises, just a faint soreness that should have been worse… and none of the sick feeling she'd grown so used to, the nauseating knowledge that she'd had to trade away her body once again. Had she gone willingly with someone? Who? Not Tarenn, never him, not even if she’d led him to believe it. And Loche would have hurt her. Who would have treated her with enough kindness that she’d be willing?

And where were they? Why couldn’t she remember them?

Her head began to ache. Abruptly, she asked, “What ship is this?” Even a slap would be preferable to all these questions.

The man in the bunk across from barely glanced over. “I was starting to wonder about you,” he said. His voice sounded like the American South. A Scotsman and a Southerner, and a woman. A strange crew. She was used to Loche’s slowly-growing army of smugglers and the Orion Syndicate members they dealt with. Never so small a crew, never with a woman, two women, roaming free. The man continued to talk while she thought. “You’re on the Mary Read. We picked you up on a run from Coridan.” He looked over at her again, then sighed and set his padd down, sitting up and pulling a kit over to him. “Come here. I’m just going to scan you to make sure you’re all right.” His voice was brusque, but Anne noticed that he was careful to make no sudden movements.

Anne complied immediately, her nerves screaming that she shouldn’t listen, that he would hurt her. She knew where that road led, though. Carefully keeping herself from touching anything she didn’t have to, she moved to the edge of the bunk. Some days it felt like enough detachment would let her float away. The day she did would be the best day of her life.

The man didn’t touch her either, in fact went out of his way not to handle her as he ran a handheld scanner through the air in front of her, waiting for her to lift her arms or directing her to turn her head. He seemed to pay close attention to her head. “What’s the last thing you remember before today?” he finally asked.

Anne had to stop herself from looking at him. If she looked, it would seem like she was looking for his reaction. “I don’t know. I remember being in Section Three. I passed out.” That was the last time she’d seen Loche. She’d woken up in the cloth bag, sick. Tarenn had pulled her out. Months on his ship. She didn’t know what had happened to Tarenn, so it was better not to give away what she did remember. Maybe the man would let something slip.

Something in the man’s eyes flickered, and she knew that he had seen something inconsistent there. Maybe his scanner could register her brain activity as well as structure? Anne decided to brazen it out and waited for him to call her on it.

He said nothing about it. “You can call me McCoy. Scotty and-- Scotty is up front.” He put the scanner away in his kit. Almost immediately, she saw his fear return, his jaw tensing, his knuckles whitening. She noticed that he remembered to secure the kit bag with his thumbprint before lying back down on the bunk and picking up his padd again. No chance of getting at the medical supplies. “If you’re hungry there’s a food synth back that way,” he said, waving his hand in the opposite direction from the voices she could hear in the cockpit.

Anne wasn’t hungry. In fact, she had gained weight since the last time she remembered. Whoever had been kind had been making sure she had enough to eat, and had for a while now. She knew it definitely hadn’t been Tarenn. He couldn’t afford that.

Wherever she’d been, they had treated her well. No wounds, enough to eat, and even now, no one offering her insult or harm even when they knew she was lying. It was perplexing. It was enough to make her curious. “Are you all right?” she asked. Maybe if she showed concern for him, he would tell her something useful.

“Bad batch of Romulan ale,” he said, his jaw tensing. He was lying. He was afraid. He didn’t like that she’d noticed, but it hadn’t surprised him. “I’m fine.” He didn’t look at her.

Anne withdrew back into the corner furthest from the light. McCoy would tell her nothing. She would have to wait for one of the others.

Hours later, she’d seen each of the others at least once. The Scottish man had been a smaller, twitchy looking type who also had no discernible sexual interest in her and had called her ‘lassie’. He’d looked nervous and concerned, his eyes searching her face like he’d expected to find something that wasn’t there, leaving her alone when he realized she would not volunteer anything. If she’d talked to him alone, maybe she would have, but McCoy had still been in the room.

The woman was as beautiful and confident as her voice had suggested. She’d seemed at ease with both men, and her large dark eyes had scanned Anne repeatedly, again searching her for something that she couldn’t seem to find. If Anne had spoken willingly to anyone, it would have been her. She hadn’t said her name.

When they were hailed, however, it was the woman who’d seemed to take charge. “McCoy! We’re receiving a signal from an approaching Orion-style ship. No identification. It’s telling us to prepare for boarding.”

McCoy had gotten up from the bunk, as if having something to concentrate on had abated his fear for the moment. He’d glanced at Anne, pointed at her and said, “Stay there. Do _not_ interfere,” and then gone to the cockpit.

A few moments later, she could hear him arguing with whoever was on the other side of the hail. She couldn’t make out what the other voice was saying. “What do you mean, signal? We’re not sending any signals.” An ominous pause. “I don’t care. She’s mine. I paid for her fair and square.”

Anne felt her insides ice over, her body forcing itself back into the dark corner of the bunk, heels digging into the bed in front of her. A little whimper started up despite her efforts to contain it.

“Fine. Give us the co-ordinates. We’ll follow you there. We have some cargo to get rid of anyway.” McCoy paused. “No, goddammit. I’ve only got an old code.” He paused again. “Sigma sigma nine, eta epsilon two four omicron.”

There was a long pause, and Anne felt like frost would start showing on her fingertips any moment.

“Fine. Take us in tractor, if you want, I don’t give a fuck. As long as I can make a profit.”

When the doors opened, Anne only barely stopped her whimpering. McCoy peered down at her like he was about to say something, then shook his head and climbed back onto the other bed, staring up at the bottom of bunk above him. “Look, I’ll do my best for you,” he said finally, reluctantly. He started to say something else, and then stopped himself.

Anne didn’t answer.


	41. Chapter 41

“Vital signs have not returned to normal, although they are still within normal ranges for stress, Captain,” Dr. Hayes reported. In the absence of McCoy, she was CMO, and Kirk had invited her to the bridge where she could keep him updated without delays. “Uhura is taking it well. Hardesty is not, although she’s within expectations. McCoy and Scotty are average.” **  
**

“Incoming transmission, Captain,” Hawkins said. “Coded burst from Lieutenant Uhura. They’ve been picked up by one of Loche’s ships. They’re being taken in tractor. Loche’s men knew Ms. Hardesty was aboard. Lieutenant Uhura says they expect to be at the base within the next twelve hours.”

“Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. “Communicate our status to the Farragut-A and add that we expect to move pending Scotty’s reports on the inside of the base, estimate three days given current intelligence.”

“Captain,” Dr. Hayes said. “Permission to speak with you privately.”

Kirk looked sharply at her, then nodded. “In the conference room, Hayes.” She nodded and left the bridge, and Kirk gave a few last-minute instructions to Chekov before handing over the conn.

As he walked into the conference room, he saw Hayes studying the readouts with a frown. “No, nothing’s changed,” she said. “They’re all right. But if they expect to be at the base that quickly, you had better get some rest.”

“Is this your advice as a physician?” Kirk asked dryly.

Hayes smirked at him. “No, Captain. If I want to give you official medical advice, I won’t bother doing it in private. But you’ve been awake since yesterday, and if anything were going to happen it would have happened now or it'll happen when they arrive. We should both rest up for a few hours, let the others spell us off, and then we’ll be fresh for it when they get to the base.”

Kirk watched her, but could detect nothing beyond concern. And he had to admit she was right. “Good idea. Thanks, Claudia.”

“Does this mean I can call you Jim?” she asked, and for a moment he saw that her nerves were about as frayed as his beneath her cool, beautiful facade. He nodded. “Do you want some company, Jim? I think I’d rather not worry myself to death alone right now.”

Kirk eyed her skeptically; he hadn’t noticed her attraction to him, and he wondered if he would notice it if she meant to act on it. He had to admit he wasn’t sure how he would handle it if she did. Anne had encouraged him not to restrain himself, but that was probably a can of worms best left unopened. Especially at the moment. Kirk sighed. “Sure. But I’m warning you, I’m not going to be very good company.”

Claudia shook her head. “Me neither. Dinner, drinks, and off to sleep. And I promise I won’t talk about Leonard too much if you don’t talk about Anne too much.”

An unwilling smile crossed Kirk’s lips. “We’ll work that one out.” He flipped open his communicator. “Mr. Chekov. You will remain at the conn until relieved; Dr. Hayes and I are going to get some rest while we can.” Chekov acknowledged.

Claudia was already contacting the med bay, assigning someone else to watch over the away team’s vitals. As they left the conference room, she flipped her communicator shut, and then paused with it still in her hand. “Should we contact Spock?”

Kirk shook his head. “He’ll be asleep. If he wasn’t, he’d be at his post already. I’d have to stun him to get him away.” His mouth twisted. “We’ll get him if something happens. We don’t all have to be worrying at once.”

“That’s fair.” She tucked her communicator away.

“You haven’t cleared those vitals,” Kirk said, glancing at the padd she still carried.

“Did you really want me to?” Claudia asked skeptically. When he didn’t answer, she said, “I didn't think so.”

Kirk half-laughed at himself, sounding bitter to his own ears. “Yeah, well, as long as I’m not watching them myself I’ll probably be fine.”

Without thinking about it, he soon found himself at his quarters, gesturing for Claudia to follow him in. “What do you even do in situations like this?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. “I’m not cut out for sitting and waiting. I always go with the away teams.” Yanking off the gold overtunic, he tossed it on one of the couches and kicked off his boots. As he walked barefooted to one of the wall cabinets that he knew still had a bottle or two of something in it, he heard Claudia moving behind him.

When he turned, he saw that she was punching an order into the food synthesizer. “Any requests?” she asked.

“God, I don’t know. Something sugary as shit. Pie. Cookies.” He snorted. “Anne calls them biscuits. I don’t even think she’s being pretentious. The way she talks sometimes… hell, I don't even know where she’s from.”

Claudia tapped a few keys on the padd. “That’s odd. South Africa, originally. You would think she’d have mentioned it. She must have had some voice training to change her accent. American accents do tend to be more common off-planet.”

That... couldn't be right. “I know I’ve heard French when she was stressed. For someone who’s not very interesting, she’s sure got a lot of mysterious shit going on,” Kirk said, popping the cap on one of the bottles and pouring some into a glass. It was… bourbon? Maybe?

“And I've heard _that_ before. What’s that ‘interesting’ business?” Claudia asked, grabbing the food from the synthesizer. He saw a massive pile of chocolate chip cookies on one plate, and a stack of sandwiches stuffed with fried things and cheese on the other.

“...thank god. I don’t think I could have handled it if you’d gotten us salad,” Kirk said. Collapsing onto the couch, he set the bottle and the glasses down on the table. Claudia stepped around and put down the plates, grabbing a sandwich and her unidentified booze. It felt so weird to sit on the couch with someone and not immediately have them move in close. He'd gotten so used to Anne being there. “The not-interesting thing, that’s just something she said in the first few days when I asked her about herself.”

Claudia shook her head, but more like she recognized it immediately than not. “I can’t explain that in any detail without breaking confidentiality. There are some personality issues there.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t need to explain it,” Kirk said, grabbing a cookie and dunking it in his booze. “Anyway, we weren’t going to talk about her or about McCoy. How did you meet him, anyway?”

Sighing, Claudia said, “He cheated on his wife with me when we were in med school.”

“ _What?_ ” Kirk dropped his cookie and had to fish it out of his bourbon. “I mean, uh… something less surprised. Seriously?”

She just shrugged. “We were young, okay? And he’d just gotten married and it was already going badly and… It’s all ancient history. We’re friends. Well, after we reconnected in Starfleet, anyway.” She laughed softly. “Then I got chased away by his third wife for a couple years. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since before your five year mission started.”

“Huh.” Kirk couldn’t help but stare. “I’m not sure if I’m more impressed that he never said anything, or that he didn’t marry you, or… you know, I give up. It’s just all impressive.” He paused, taking a bite of his booze-soaked cookie, and then talking around it. “Anne figured it out, I think. She said something about the way you looked at him.”

To his surprise, Claudia looked concerned, a little guilty. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, no! I didn’t even notice. Well, I did after she told me what to look for.” Claudia frowned, and he hurried to add, “I mean I made her tell me.” Kirk saw her suspicion building, and sighed. “Fine, all right, Anne said something about you being a good rebound for me after she was gone unless Bones got there first, and I grilled her because I didn’t believe her because you _weren’t_ obvious, okay?”

Claudia just raised her eyebrows, her lips pressing together briefly. “Well at least I know I wasn’t making a fool of myself. What an awful thing to have your Captain find out.” She shook her head philosophically. “It’s nothing personal. You’re attractive, but I need to have a professional relationship with you. That’s far more important to me than attraction.”

“Damn, shot down before I could even try,” Kirk said drolly. “As long as you don’t marry Bones, because I don’t want to have to get rid of one of you when you break up.”

Knocking back some of her booze, Claudia coughed slightly and shook her head. “I wouldn’t marry him. He’s got too many ex-wives. Makes me nervous.” She glanced sidelong at Kirk. “Besides, I’m not sure I have a position here once we get back to Yorktown.”

“You’re fine here,” Kirk said. This was settled already, had been since her first day.

“Yeah, but… it depends on Anne. If things don’t work out well enough, I’ll stay on at Yorktown. Command will have me, so it’s not like my career would suffer too much.” At Kirk’s skeptical look, she added, “Not that I want to leave. I'd much rather stay with the ship. But… I can’t just leave her if she needs me.”

“All you ever do is argue,” Kirk said, bemused. He wasn't sure he'd seen them on good terms… well, ever.

Claudia smiled, a quick flash of affectionate humor not directed at him. “Do you know anyone else she’s comfortable enough to argue with?”

Kirk had to concede the point. Something Claudia had said when they’d had that first misinterpretation jumped back out at him. “I thought personal feelings were a bad idea, Doctor?”

She acknowledged his point with a nod. “They are. Told you I’d been there.”

“Over and over, I bet,” Kirk said, shaking his head. A bit of honesty escaped from him before he could stop it. “I feel kind of… weird. To think you could change your entire life for a patient, and yet I can’t do it for someone I… I don't know. I don't even know what I'm trying to say.” He didn't want to look up. If he had to see what was on Claudia’s face, he might have answers… and at least if it was all just questions, there was no finality yet.

If she knew what was going through his head, she didn't indulge it for one second. “There are different ways of loving people, Jim. Anne loves you for what you are, not what she wishes you were or what would make her happiest. If I had to be a psychologist for either of you right now, I’d be yelling about how terrible that is under these circumstances, but… off the record, as a friend, so long as you both make it through, I think you’re very lucky.” Claudia sipped her drink again. “But I’m not going to say that ever again, because it’s a huge liability and in the end I don’t think it’s going to do anyone any good.”

Well, he'd practically been asking for all that. “You’re probably right. I’m not real great at the long view, though.” Kirk knocked back his bourbon and finished his cookie, grabbing a sandwich, thinking about the food to avoid thinking too hard about Claudia’s wording choices. “There’s never been a reason to think beyond the next mission.” He sighed, devoured half the sandwich in a few bites, and then added, “I don’t know what to do. Hell, I called my mother.”

Claudia blinked, her large brown eyes shocked. “That’s… you're not...”

Kirk gave her a look. Whatever she was thinking,she could just put it right out of her head. “My mom’s the only person I know that I could really ask about having a loved one die on a mission.” As Claudia looked blankly at him, he prompted, “My father. When I was born. George Kirk?”

Recognition finally sparked in her eyes. “Shit. I knew that about you. I did, really, I just… I didn’t connect it. You don’t act like it.”

Mollified, Kirk said, “Good. Anyway, I had to ask my mom what she would do in my position, what she would have done if she’d known Dad might not come back.” He smirked unhappily. “The point is, she told me not to worry about losing Anne later on, just to spend the time well.”

“Am I being your psychologist?” Claudia asked, her voice neutral.

“No. You’re being a friend. What would you do?” He looked over at her and saw that her tawny skin had gone white. There was a spatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks that didn't show up unless she paled. “Right. Bones. Put you and him in my situation with Anne.”

He finished the rest of his sandwich and started another while Claudia thought. “I can’t say I would do anything differently,” she finally said, slowly. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it? You want to know about the future. What happens if she comes back.”

“When,” Kirk corrected. “When I get her back.”  


“When you get her back,” Claudia repeated, then fell silent again. She grabbed a handful of cookies, studying them. “Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. Leonard and I haven’t been together in years. I’m not saying I would, but there’s a chance of it. With Anne… you just don’t know. If you could arrange with her-- if she could follow you, or meet you… if she could stay on...”  


“But it’s up to her,” Kirk said, pouring himself some more bourbon.

“And you,” Claudia said gently. “I meant it when I said she loves you. _When_ you get her back, she’ll chase you far enough to get her memories back, for sure. Maybe she’ll chase you past that.” Claudia sighed. “You are pretty well worked into her mind.”

Flicking a crumb off his pants, Kirk tried very hard not to think about what it meant if he was… if Anne was… whatever. This whole situation was crazy. “I suppose that’s encouraging.”

“It should be. You’ve got it set up as best as you can to protect her mind and to get her back safely. I think she’ll be okay. Beyond that, you're going to have to find out yourself.” Glancing around, Claudia sighed, and slumped. “That bourbon is hitting me hard. Can I stay here tonight?”

Giving her a skeptical glance, Kirk said, “Yeah. I’ll take the couch. I’ve crashed on it enough times.”

Claudia’s eyes widened. “No, I’m not kicking you out of bed.” She glanced away, and Kirk suddenly felt that she might not be strictly truthful. “I’m not a fan of Anne’s perfume. I’ll take the couch, if you can lend me something to cover up with.”

Kirk gave her a raised eyebrow. “I can probably scare something up. Nothing of Anne’s will fit you, though.”

Lips quirking, Claudia shook her head. “Of course not, she's half my size. But I’ll sleep in my uniform, I just need a blanket or something.”

Kirk shook his head and stood. He was getting tired too. “Let me check around.” A thorough rummage through his various storage compartments later, he’d found an old pair of shorts and a shirt that one girlfriend or other had left behind by accident, as well as a blanket to cover up with. He gestured toward the wall opposite his room. “There’s a washroom over there. I’ve got my own in the bedroom, so take as long as you need.”

“I’m all right for now. I’ll change after you go to bed.” Yawning behind her hand, Claudia looked up at him. “I’ll set up an alarm so that if their vitals change state, it’ll wake me.”

Kirk felt his shoulders sink in relief. He tossed the blanket and the clothes on the end of the couch. “I appreciate it, Claudia. Really.” Grabbing the bottle of bourbon, he poured himself another generous glass of it and then set it on the table. “I’ll clean up in the morning. Get some rest.”

“You too, Jim,” she said, already at her padd.

He’d finished the glass by the time he made it to the shower in his bedroom, and once he’d come out, he was feeling warm and drowsy. Sliding naked into bed, he settled into the scent of Anne’s perfumed skin, and wished it was still natural for the other side of the bed to feel cold.


	42. Chapter 42

A female voice jarred him out of sleep. “Captain! On the bridge, on the double!” Footsteps turned away from his door. **  
**

Kirk was moving before he had fully registered the door sliding shut, yanking on everything but his overtunic, running a hand through his hair as he stepped out of the room. Dr. Hayes had done much the same-- she was without her blue overtunic, and her eyebrows were drawn together with worry, her fingers tapping away at her padd. “Vitals changed, just Anne’s at first, then Leonard and Scott at the same time. Uhura is stressed but stable,” she said as they left the suite. She didn’t have to stretch to keep up with him like Anne did; she was walking just as fast as he was.

“Who’s at the conn?” Kirk snapped.

Dr. Hayes split the screen on her padd and looked it up. “It’s Sulu’s shift, but he’s not registering as there,” she said, her voice hardening. She tapped again. “The change in vitals was acknowledged by Ensign Maroa.”

Kirk burst onto the bridge a moment before Dr. Hayes. “Hawkins, hail the Farragut-A--”

“Belay that order, Hawkins,” Spock said. “Captain, I have the situation in hand.”

Dr, Hayes stepped forward, glaring at the Medical ensign cowering at his station, and then at Spock. Her hair swirled behind her like chestnut flames. Kirk almost stopped her, then decided he would let her go. “Mr. Spock, you will explain your actions immediately. I am aware of the change in vitals and I am also aware that Ensign Maroa noted them.”

Spock watched Hayes with no appreciable fear, which Kirk decided was probably the least reasonable reaction. Her eyes were glinting dangerously. “Dr. Hayes, it was on my orders that Ensign Maroa did not inform you. Had I known that you would still be monitoring the away team’s vitals, I would have informed you myself. We are awaiting another code burst from Lieutenant Uhura to make certain all has gone according to our projections.”

“Spock,” Kirk said, fully aware that Spock never did anything without a reason. “Care to explain?”

“It has been nine hours since you retired, Captain. I believe they have reached the base.” Spock watched him blandly.

“Spock,” Kirk said. Dr. Hayes looked like she was about to add something, but saw the look on Kirk’s face and subsided. Kirk waited.

“My theory is that the situation is being resolved as we speak, Captain, otherwise Lieutenant Uhura’s vitals would have changed as well.”

Dr. Hayes scowled at him. “They did change.”

“They did not change enough to indicate that anything had gone amiss.” Spock looked to Hawkins. “Please notify me immediately once you receive Lieutenant Uhura’s code burst.”

“Hawkins, you’ll notify _both_ of us,” Kirk said, eyeing Spock. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing, Jim,” Spock said. “Perhaps it would be best to speak in private.”

Kirk glanced over where Sulu usually sat. He wasn’t there, as Hayes had said. Spock had probably relieved him. “Hayes, take the conn. Spock and I will be in the conference room. The moment anything happens-- anything at all-- you’ll notify us.”

“Aye sir,” Hayes said, her mouth set. Kirk knew she didn’t have any navigational or command experience, but if all he needed was for someone to sit in the chair while he and Spock spoke, she would do. Dr. Hayes flicked her hair back and strode to the chair, cutting a far more capable figure than Chekov had the first time he’d taken the conn. “I’ll keep you informed,” she said as she seated herself, her eyes confident. Kirk had a feeling she was pretending, but that was all it was-- a feeling.

“Spock,” he said. “I’ll see you in the conference room. Now.” Without waiting, he left the room.

Spock came through the conference room door immediately after it had closed behind him, standing at formal rest. Kirk knew this was going to go badly. “Captain, I wish to inform you that Ms. Hardesty herself rigged the dom-jot game in which she was won by Gamel Tarenn.”

It took a moment for the implications of that to sink in. “You knew this would happen.”

“At Ms. Hardesty’s request, I did not divulge the information to you. She had intended to tell you herself once she was safely en route, but I myself took away her ability to do so. Lieutenant Uhura was also aware, and Ms. Hardesty had also requested her silence. That is why we are awaiting her report.” Spock did not relax.

“What happened out there, Spock?” Kirk demanded. “It wasn’t just Anne. It was McCoy and Scotty too.”

“I must surmise that they were taken unawares.” Spock paused, and then visibly decided to come clean. “Jim, you would have prevented her from leaving, and Ms. Hardesty would have been unable--”

Fury suddenly burned in his mind as he realized what Spock was saying. “You cold-blooded son of a bitch, you let Anne go and do something stupid so that Uhura would be safer.” Kirk said.

Spock blinked. “No. Ms. Hardesty insisted that you not be told. I attempted to ameliorate the situation--”

“You didn’t exactly try to stop her, did you?” Kirk found himself hurt, and angry beyond belief. Spock might not have seen it as a betrayal, but it felt like one.

Spock’s voice cut cold through the air, as emotionless as it ever was, and somehow not emotionless at all. “No. Could I have stopped her at the expense of our crew members?” Spock watched him, staying in his formal rest pose. “Should I have stopped her when she was well aware of the potential cost and benefit to us?”

Kirk felt his fury turn back on itself, roiling helplessly. He’d been unfair to Spock and he knew it, but Spock had been unfair to him too. “You should have told me. What did she do? What happened?”

“We do not know, as yet. But Ms. Hardesty anticipated that Loche was aware of her betrayal, and that he would immediately harm her. I presume this has happened, as the vital signs of both Doctor McCoy and Mr. Scott spiked, but Lieutenant Uhura’s did not.” Spock closed his eyes, then looked back at Kirk, his gaze holding a faint mix of regret and admiration. “Jim, she was ruthless with herself because she feared, rightfully, that you would not be ruthless with her. I attempted to do what you would have done had you been objective: I suggested Doctor McCoy go along, in order to take care of her medical needs.”

Kirk gripped the back of one of the conference room chairs, his fingers flexing, releasing, flexing. “You did. And you knew, the whole time.”

“I could not tell you without breaking the trust of both Ms. Hardesty and Lieutenant Uhura. Nyota made me aware of the situation because of the mind melds; she would not have otherwise told me.” Spock finally relaxed his posture. “Ms. Hardesty does not remember you. Of that I had to be most careful, as you undid the forgetfulness whenever her mind happened on you. She has the will to survive, if only for the chance to escape from Loche once again. However, I do not believe she will settle for something so small.”

“Spock…” Kirk glared at him. “I could have you up on insubordination for this.”

“Ms. Hardesty reasoned that informing you would cause you grief to no purpose, and I agreed. Had you stayed asleep for another hour, you would have no cause to grieve; Dr. McCoy will be working on her even as we speak. And I believe Loche will have cause to regret it.” Spock’s eyes were colder than ever. “Our enemies often give us the means for their own destruction.”

“And that’s what you think will keep her going,” Kirk said, suddenly remembering that a mind meld was a _meld_ , after all. After experiencing Anne’s memories alongside her, Spock had more than one reason to want to see Loche captured. Abruptly Kirk felt guilty and a little sick behind his anger. He should have realized what he'd been asking from Spock.

“I have only her perception of herself to work from, Captain. But I believe so.” Spock clasped his hands behind his back. “A remarkable woman, Captain. Flawed, and deeply troubled, but remarkable nonetheless.”

“Captain, code burst from Lieutenant Uhura.” It was Hayes, over the intercom.

“On our way.” Kirk glared at Spock, but it lacked venom. “If there’s anything else pertinent that you know, Mr. Spock, you’d better tell me. Immediately.”

“I know that she has been true to part of her nature with you. Beyond that, I cannot say,” Spock said as he followed Kirk out onto the bridge.

Hayes stood immediately. “Captain, report from Lieutenant Uhura. Repeating: All as expected. No other injuries. McCoy able to deal with Hardesty. We are in.”


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence.

As soon as she saw him, she knew her life was over. Maybe not today-- maybe not even this week. But she would be surprised to see another month. Loche’s tall figure stood out amidst the guards, his nondescript clothing completely failing to hide how muscular his body was, how handsome he was, how persuasive his smile and how utter his control. **  
**

“I must apologize for the abruptness of my guards,” Loche said, that familiar, velvet growl making the hairs on Anne’s neck stand upright. She remained where she was, behind and to the side of Scotty and McCoy, standing beside the woman whose name she didn’t know. The woman’s demeanor had changed; she looked subdued, maybe even frightened. It was a strange contrast to her earlier confidence. “You seem to have stumbled into possession of something of mine, something I had wanted back.”

McCoy lifted his chin, his smirk holding a certain insolence. “Loche, isn’t it? Well, Loche, I paid for her fair and square. Seems to me your problem’s with the guy that sold her to me.”

“Gamel Tarenn,” Loche said. His eyes were perfectly calm, perfectly friendly, reasonable. Anne knew better. “I do understand that. However, I’ll be willing to provide you equal recompense, and there are other slaves here that may suit your needs better.” He eyed McCoy up and down. “You look to be a capable man. I think we all want to leave our lives behind in some measure, but do you mind telling me what legal professions you’ve had?” He smiled, his grin open, persuasive. “I may have a position here, for the right man.”

McCoy looked skeptical, but seemed to warm up just a little. Anne wondered if he believed Loche. “Used to be a doctor. He used to be in communications on a starbase.” He nodded toward Scott.

Loche’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Communications, well, that’s not so useful, but a doctor…” Loche shook his head, as if in admiration. “We don’t find many doctors in these parts. My last doctor was called elsewhere, and his specialization was somewhat narrow anyway. I myself am no student of healing. May I ask what ended your career?” He seemed to be asking out of polite curiosity, but Anne wondered if McCoy noticed how Loche was moving to the side, circling around towards her.

She couldn’t move away without drawing attention. That would only make it worse. Anne forced herself to relax, trying to make sure she could absorb whatever was thrown at her.

“Personal,” McCoy said, then seemed to feel safe enough to volunteer more. “Divorce. Ruined me financially. I never did recover, not until I started working outside the law.”

“I can see why you would prefer a slave, Doctor. They are much more biddable.” Loche’s smile faded a little as he came to a stop in front of Anne. McCoy suddenly realized that Loche had circumvented him, and stepped forward, but Loche didn’t appear to notice him. “Hello, my little brute.”

Anne felt her knees weaken, and considered dropping to them. Before she could, pain exploded through her jaw, which suddenly felt loose, grinding, black streaks running through her vision as she dropped to the floor. She might have blacked out for a moment. Despite the pain, Anne gasped air through her mouth, coughing and spitting up blood where she’d bitten her tongue, a tooth and pieces of another landing in the puddle of blood forming under her face.

“She’s mine,” McCoy, snarled, no fear evident in his voice, only anger. “Until you’ve paid me, she belongs to me.”

Loche absently shook out his hand, as if the punch had hurt his knuckles. “You said you were a doctor,” he pointed out mildly. “I prefer to have proof. And I’ll be happy to add an extra gratuity to what you paid for her, for your trouble.” Anne heard a shift, as if Dr. McCoy had started to move, and from the corner of her eye she saw Loche grab his wrist. “We’ll make our deal first, doctor. Then you may attend to her. I will give you what you paid for her, plus the gratuity.”

“And a job,” McCoy said, his voice hard. “ _If_ my doctoring meets your standards. You could have just looked at her arm, you know.” He seemed almost facetious.

“Was that your work?” Loche asked, amused. He held out a hand for McCoy to shake. “I preferred it the other way, but that can be rectified. I agree to your terms. Go ahead and attend to my savage there.”

“She’s still mine until I see that money,” McCoy said, but shook his hand anyway. Without noticeably hurrying, he picked his kit bag up from the ground and brought it over to where Anne had collapsed, kneeling down beside her. “All right. Head up,” McCoy said, digging in his bag. He brought out a hypospray, jammed it against the side of her neck, and stung her with it. Soothing numbness began to creep from the spot. Anne realized that her eyes had watered from the pain. She lifted her head. “Good girl,” McCoy said. He didn’t touch her. Instead, he looked at the puddle of blood on the floor, picking up the tooth. “There’s some root there. If we can get that implanted fast enough, it’ll be fine,” he said. Anne thought she saw a flash of worry in his eyes, but it was gone before she could say for sure. “You didn't have to break her jaw,” he growled at Loche.

Loche just smirked. “Heal her or not, Doctor. It doesn't matter to me what she looks like.”

McCoy seemed to save a retort for another time. “What kind of medical facilities do you have here?”

Waving his hand, Loche beckoned them on. “Why don’t I show you to them, Doctor? In the meantime, I’ll have my guards show your man and his woman to their rooms.”

“Fine,” McCoy said. “I’ll be back once I’ve got her patched up,” he said to the other man, and then stood, leaning down to help Anne up.

“Don’t bother, doctor. My savage girl is stronger than she looks.” Loche’s amusement grew sharper, clearer. “Isn’t that right?”

Anne knew what was expected of her. “Yes, Loche,” she forced out through uneven teeth, her voice rasping with pain, the movement of her jaw sending black pinwheels through her vision as if it hurt so much that she could only process more pain visually. She pushed herself up from the floor, blood running down her chin, and got to her feet. It took her a moment to orient herself; she was dizzy, and she’d ended up facing Scott and the woman.

Scott looked at her with undisguised horror. The woman seemed afraid… but wasn’t, as if she had expected it. Anne quickly turned toward Loche. She didn’t want him to notice the woman.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, smiling at her. “Did you miss me too?”

“Yes, Loche,” Anne said, and forced herself to smile. With her crooked jaw and bloody teeth, she could only imagine that it must have looked gruesome. Loche seemed quite pleased with his handiwork, however; he smiled and turned, nodding to McCoy. “This way, doctor.”

Seizing her by the elbow, Dr. McCoy brought her along, unobtrusively trying to lend her some support. She would not lean on him, though. He was ephemeral. He would disappear, and she would be left in hell.

It was evident from the moment that McCoy stepped into the poorly-equipped med bay that he knew what he was doing. “On the table,” McCoy snapped, gesturing to the single examination table. By this time, the painkiller had kicked in completely; Anne felt only a twinge when she moved her jaw. After a round of swearing at the ancient equipment, McCoy began to work, his eyes intent on his job.

Loche stayed long enough to see that he knew what he was doing, then left with a murmured, “I’ll leave you to your work, Doctor.” McCoy barely acknowledged him.

Once he was gone, however, McCoy murmured, “Tough girl. Hang in there-- this’ll all be over soon.”

He had no idea. She didn’t try to answer. She couldn’t. If she had been anywhere else, she might have thought she caught a glimpse of regret in his eyes. It was so incredibly hard not to let herself believe that he was treating her as if he realized she was a human being-- but wishful thinking was a luxury she couldn't indulge in. 

“I’m going to give you a sedative, and when you wake up, your jaw will be-- better.” He scowled, his eyes worried underneath his anger. “Not perfect, but better.” He loaded up the hypospray. “I’ll fix the dent later, once the bones have time to knit.”

Why was he even bothering to explain to her? Anne felt the hypo sting her neck, and watched McCoy impassively. She wished she could tell him not to bother. Loche was going to end her, with or without a working jaw. She felt herself beginning to fall asleep, and wondered how she had gone from somewhere good, somewhere that she was treated well, back into this hellish place. She had to believe she really had been somewhere good. It couldn’t have been just more wishful thinking. She had to believe that people like that still existed. She had to.

Otherwise there was nothing left to believe in. Otherwise, there was nothing left to do but to try to take him down with her. 

Whoever had treated her well must not have wanted her, in the end, or else why would she be here? 

Maybe that was all there was. Maybe killing Loche was the only rational thing left. Her luck had run out; she would not survive this captivity again. But maybe his luck had run out too. As the sedative swallowed her into a deep and drifting grey mist, she began to steel herself. She would not go down without a fight… and whatever happened, Loche would die. There was nothing else left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for posting late, I was out far too late with friends. I'll try to have a little something on [my tumblr](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/) on Monday to make up for it :)


	44. Chapter 44

Lieutenant Uhura’s updates couldn’t come fast enough for Kirk. He had no way of answering her, not even to acknowledge that they had received her messages, so he was dependent on Uhura’s judgment for whatever news she could give. And her updates were frustratingly short. He understood that she couldn’t send long messages, but still:

“McCoy offered a job, Scott looking for work.”

“Assigned to Section One.”

“Map Section One complete.”

And most ominously,

“Anne surgery complete, full recovery expected.”

Kirk had taken to eating meals in his suite with Spock and Claudia, because at least then he could vent his frustrations at how slowly they seemed to be making progress. “Perhaps next time you will see fit to join the away team yourself, Captain,” Spock had said at one point, no doubt sick of hearing his complaints.

Claudia had laughed shortly. “Why didn’t you, Jim?” she asked. “You’d have been able to keep an eye on them that way.”

Kirk scowled down at his bowl of… of food. He didn’t even remember what he’d ordered-- it was white and he thought it had potatoes in it. “I’d have given the whole thing up by now. We’d be in a siege already. If you think I could stand there and watch someone hurt my-- well, any defenseless person, you are definitely mistaken.” He scowled harder. “Just because I’m the Captain doesn’t mean I can do everything. I just know what I _am_ capable of, and it’s not that.”

“So you get to ride to the rescue at the end,” Claudia said, her voice cynical. 

“Directing the ground teams is the role I’m best suited for,” Kirk said. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t find it convenient or satisfying, but I’d have liked it best if someone had mailed Loche directly to rehabilitation and I never had to get out of bed. I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

“I believe you speak for us all, Captain,” Spock agreed. “I too would have found that most convenient. But it has been only one day since they arrived at the base. We must remember that Mr. Scott needs time to plant the suppression fields as well as map the base, and that Lieutenant Uhura is giving us all the pertinent information. If there is no mention of Dr. McCoy or Ms. Hardesty, we can assume that there is no news.”

“Or that she doesn’t know what’s going on,” Hayes said glumly. “At least McCoy isn’t stuck in Section One.”

“Maybe we should invite Lieutenant Romaine next time,” Kirk said. “She can’t be finding this any easier.”

“Hm?” Claudia said. “I don’t know her yet.”

“Scotty’s girl. Mira. We’ve been out for drinks a couple times.” Kirk shrugged. “It was just a thought.”

Claudia sat back, watching him. “Not one for keeping your distance, are you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Kirk.

“When you have served on the same ship for many years and risked your lives for each other, it becomes a moot point,” Spock said. Kirk was a little surprised that Spock was defending him, especially after what he’d said the day before, but he had a feeling that Spock knew it had been a product of his worry and anger. Still, he’d have to apologize, and soon. “As long as the crew respects the Captain’s orders and follows them without unreasonable question, there is little benefit in avoiding social contact. Our duties take priority regardless.”

“You have a point,” Claudia said. “I’m used to more formal relationships, I guess.”

Kirk shrugged. “I expect my crew to trust me enough to tell me when I’m wrong. Pulling rank is for people that can’t earn respect.”

“You have earned that respect by repeatedly placing yourself in danger for the sake of the crew. They are all aware of it.” Spock frowned slightly. “Hence our issue. We are not accustomed to remaining behind in safety while others risk their lives.”

Closing her eyes for a moment, Claudia made a little grimace that turned into a smile. “No wonder you’ve kept the flagship,” she said. “I’ve served on a lot of ships. Most Captains see it as the crew’s job to keep them alive, for the greater good.”

Frowning, Kirk said, “That’s ridiculous. I’ve got two other people who could replace me in a moment and do a good job of it, and another four who could do a good enough job to get us out of an emergency.”

“May I also remind you, Captain, that you have personally saved the lives of each and every single one of those people, sometimes at great cost? Whether on Altamid or previous to the Enterprise’s demise, you have proven your regard for your crew at great risk to your career and your life. Our loyalty to you is no less than your loyalty to us.” Spock set his fork down. “However, I am finished my meal, and I must continue my preparations. If you could spare me a moment, Captain, I would like to speak to you privately. I will be in the science lab nearest the bridge.”

Kirk nodded. “I’ll be there when I’m finished.” Claudia said her farewells along with him, and then remained silent for long enough that he teased, “What’s up? Mad at me again?”

“Pretty much exactly the opposite,” she said. “I underestimated you again, Jim. Figured Anne was a special case, and now I’m finding out that you’re just doing what you would do for any member of your crew.” She shook her head. “I’m too used to Captains that see their crew as expendable.”

Kirk pushed his plate away. He wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to be-- maybe he’d punched the code in wrong? “Not here. If I need to put one of _my_ crew in a position to lose their life, I’d better have a damn good reason.”

“It’s still a hero complex. I’m not sure if it makes you more or less psychologically healthy, although it makes you a better person than I’d given you credit for.” Her remark was half-jab, half-joke. Kirk found he could live with that.

Grinning, he said, “So I’ll invite Lieutenant Romaine to dinner tonight and we can all moan about how slow this is going.”

“Sure. Why not?” Claudia’s mouth twisted. “And you’re sure you don’t mind me camping out on your couch?”

“God no. That’s part of why I have the suite instead of just a cabin. Informal meetings, crew members that need to stay near the bridge, ambassadorial stuff… I requested it for things like this.” He smirked. “They wouldn’t give me a hot tub, though. Said it would give the wrong impression. Really, I just want to be able to carry out any aquatic ambassadorial--”

“Oh my god,” Claudia said, covering her face with her hand and snickering. “You had me going for a moment there.”

Laughing silently, Kirk shook his head. “Yeah, okay, I didn’t ask for a hot tub. The rest is true, though.”

“Now I don’t know whether to trust you,” Claudia said, dropping her hand but keeping that smile. “You could just as easily be lying either way.”

“Could be. You might have to ask around.” Kirk stood. “Let me know if you need me, or if you find anything out.” Claudia nodded, and Kirk strode off toward the science lab.

When he entered, Spock was there alone. Figuring this was as good a time as any to apologize, he spoke.

“Mr. Spock, I--”

“Captain, I--”

They paused, looking at each other, and Kirk had a brief urge to just forget about it-- but this was too important. Spock was his partner, and Kirk knew he’d been out of line. “Mr. Spock, you may continue, and afterward I’ll continue,” Kirk said.

“If that is what you wish, Captain.” When Kirk confirmed it, Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I find myself relieved. I wish to apologize, Captain. I spent a large part of last night examining the motives for my behavior in the matter of Ms. Hardesty, and I have come to the conclusion that you may be right. I did not intend to put Ms. Hardesty in more danger, but I allowed it to happen, in part because of her request and in part because of my attachment to Lieutenant Uhura. I allowed my personal affairs to interfere with my judgment; I apologize, and I can only hope you do not hold it against me.”

Kirk watched him for a moment, then sighed. If Spock was going to skirt around the mind melds and how they might have played a part, Kirk wasn't going to push him. “That’s what I wanted to talk about. I was out of line saying that, Spock. I trust your judgment, and I couldn’t have trusted myself to be objective about that situation. If I had known, I hope I would have asked for your opinion.” He frowned. “Now, Anne and Nyota should have told me.”

“When I conferred with both Nyota and Ms. Hardesty on the matter, I received the impression that they wished to save you worry over something they considered to be less important than the benefit gained from it. Though their actions were not to your liking, they were born from a genuine wish to ease your burdens.” Spock pressed his lips together. “They have more in common than they believe. There is very little they will not do to prevent the pain of those they care for.”

“Well, we should probably have a serious conversation about that when they get back,” Kirk said, shaking his head. “Anyway, apology accepted, and I apologize as well.”

“I could do no less than accept, Jim.” Spock glanced toward the computer he was working on, a simulation of spatial tactics necessary in a ship to ship battle between one large ship and many smaller ones. “Now, may I suggest that we return to our duties? We must be well-prepared in order to retrieve them with ease and speed.”

“Absolutely.” Kirk nodded. “Let me know if you need anything from me.” He left the science lab, heading for the bridge. Captain Vergne was briefed, communications and updates flew back and forth every hour. The security teams were training-- for all his youth, Chekov was handling them well. Kirk didn’t want to supervise him too hard, as that would imply that he didn’t trust Chekov, but he would be depending on the security teams. It wouldn’t be amiss to watch over them. Perhaps even join in the drills.

Yes, that would be best. Join the drills, make sure Chekov was handling everything well, and get the security teams used to his presence. He would be directing them, after all.

And handpick the team that would take Section One. The aim might have been to take the entire base, but he knew where his focus was.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence mentions, sexual violence mentions.

They cringed when she came into the women’s common room, all except the one whose name she’d finally heard-- Nyota Uhura. She did not seem as afraid as she should have been. Anne did not often visit the common room, and it generally boded ill for someone when she did. She surmised that Loche would eventually notice Uhura’s lack of fear and cause Anne to make her afraid. Until then, Anne would say nothing. She liked the woman, in spite of herself. She would show Uhura no kindness, and perhaps Loche would not notice her soft heart.  


The rest of them, however… they shrank away into the corners of their common room, whispering to each other, their eyes wide. Anne couldn’t quite remember what she’d done to deserve that, but she knew she had earned it. She could see it in the scars on their arms, in the missing fingers and slit nostrils. Whatever she had forgotten, she knew the hand that had done many of those things had not belonged to Loche. In front of her, he walked straight-backed and proud, enjoying the eyes that pleaded with him to take Anne away. He liked knowing he was in control, and he liked being the one who dispensed kindness to the women and earned their trust while Anne was forced to deal out the threats and punishment and earned nothing but fear. He liked knowing that Anne hated what she did and did it anyway, to survive.

Anne wondered if the woman, Nyota, would begin to hate her too. That seemed crueler than the rest somehow. She let herself consider the thought with detachment, imagined the pain of earning another hatred, and tried to get used to the idea. There was no escape.

Loche had ordered her to be brought from the sedative early, before her bones were entirely healed. McCoy had protested her removal, yelled even, but in the end he had capitulated and let Loche take her from the crude med bay. She was still swimming in the effects of sedation and opiates, her mind slowly clearing but her body fuzzy-feeling and warm. She felt better than she had in ages. It was the drugs. She knew that somewhere, she felt sick and frightened and disgusted, but the drugs made it easier to push all that aside.

They were approaching a small knot of the women, three or four of them crowded around one. Uhura watched from the sidelines.

“Mara, how is the child?” Loche asked, his voice warm.

The woman looked warily at Anne, and then back to Loche, the bundle in her arms making quiet noises. Anne distantly felt surprise, and growing unease. A child. She hadn't known there was a child here. How awful. “She’s fine. Eating well. She’s a survivor.”

“Let me see her,” Loche said, holding out his arms. Anne closed her eyes briefly. She knew what was coming. She did not want it, but it would drive another wedge between her and the women, make it even more unthinkable for her to ever trust them.

The woman placed the bundle in Loche’s arms, and he held it carefully, bouncing the baby a little when it began to squawk. “You’ve taken good care of her,” Loche said, his eyes fixed on the baby. He held up a finger, and the child grabbed it, squeezing it. He laughed. “What a beautiful little girl. Brynna would be proud.”

Brynna?

Anne struggled to hold onto her detachment. Loche turned to her, thrust the child at her. “Take her. You will care for her now. After all, you killed her mother.”

It was what she had expected, but so much worse. Anne took the child, looking down at its rounded little face. “I don’t know how to care for a child,” she said. It was going to be hard to walk the line between protesting and making sure the child stayed away from her. The more she resisted, the more Loche would insist that she keep the child. She glanced at Mara, who was looking at her desperately, as if she would snatch the baby back if she could.

“You will learn,” Loche said. “She is your responsibility.”

Anne looked down at the baby again and felt nothing. “I do not want to hurt your child. I know nothing about them.”

“Please let me have her back,” Mara said. “Please. I’ve taken good care of her.”

“You’ve grown too attached to her, Mara,” Loche said gently. “She is my daughter, and I want to keep her near me. It is best that she comes with us now, before she grows to need you.”

Anne said nothing. The baby gurgled and began to cry.

“Soothe her,” Loche said, amused.

“I don’t know how,” Anne said, looking down at the squalling bundle in her arms. She tried bouncing the child gently, the way Loche had, but that only made the baby cry harder. Anne looked up at him. “I don’t know anything about babies.”

Loche began to laugh quietly, shaking his head. “How ridiculous. Are you a failure to your sex? What kind of woman doesn’t know how to be a mother?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

A movement on the sidelines caught Anne’s eye. Uhura stepped forward. “May I offer a solution?” she asked quietly, her eyes darting to Loche and then away.

Loche frowned, but gestured to her to continue, placated by her respect. “Tell me. I’ll at least listen.”

“I can take care of the baby. She won’t get attached to me before Scott decides to move on, and I’ll have time to teach her how to take care of it.” Uhura looked at Anne. “I can stay with her as long as Scott doesn’t want my company.”

Loche’s eyes hardened. He didn’t like his women thinking… but Uhura was not his woman. That did change things. The baby began to cry harder, and Loche looked at Anne, jerking his chin toward Uhura. “Give her the child. If she can quiet it down, she can stay with you.” His eyes weighed Uhura, measuring how likely she would be to connect with Anne, how likely it was that her departure would hurt Anne.

Anne stepped toward Uhura and handed her the bundle. Immediately, Uhura frowned. “You’re holding her all wrong. You need to support her head more.” She settled the baby in her arms, and the squalling began to quiet. Tracing the child’s cheeks, she made some little noises, and the baby began to settle. “What’s her name?” Uhura asked, her eyes darting to Mara before landing back on Loche.

Loche looked to Mara. “What did you name her?” he asked. Anne bit back a surge of anger. He hadn't even bothered to learn the child’s name.

“Lilla,” Mara said, her gaze flitting away. “For the flower.”

“A beautiful choice,” Loche said, and Mara looked gratified. “You may visit the child once a week, for half a day. Otherwise, she’s to be left in the care of my savage, or--” he looked to Uhura.

“Uhura,” she said.

“Uhura.” He nodded. “Very good.” He lifted his hand, grabbing Anne’s hair and tugging it sharply. “Take her to your quarters. Move her things there.”

“Yes, Loche,” Anne murmured. Her mouth felt dry. She would lose this sliver of human kindness Uhura had shown her.

“And learn from her. The child is yours. You’ll need the practice; I want a son, and you’ll suit me best.” Loche grinned as he saw Anne’s face blanch. “You don’t think I would waste that beautiful survival instinct of yours on a girl, do you?”

Anne saw Uhura’s fingers tighten, but Uhura said nothing.

“Is something wrong?” Loche asked Uhura, his voice edged with poison. He had noticed her tiny movement as well.

Uhura shook her head, looking away from him. “Nothing. I'm sorry.”

Loche relaxed back into calm control, looking Anne over. “Tell me you want my son, and I’ll have the doctor begin work on it tomorrow. Our previous physician left us all we need to easily undertake this effort.”

There was no way around it. If she said no, he would only hurt her until she said yes. If he hurt her badly enough, all her half-formed plans would come to nothing. Anne looked him in the eyes. “Please let me have your son,” she said, her voice weak. She could feel her bloodless lips pressing cold against each other.

That was enough to suit Loche. He smiled. Maybe he liked it better that he knew she was terrified of the prospect. “Take your baby to your room for now. Spend some time learning from Uhura. I’ll come for you when I want to be hated.”

Anne glanced over her shoulder at Uhura, who nodded. Without saying anything, she began to lead the woman away toward her quarters, segregated from the rest of the women. Loche had always kept her that way; it was no wonder she hadn’t known about the child’s survival. As they left the common room, she could hear Loche speaking to the others, his voice full of satisfaction, their voices full of desperation and what they thought was love.

Once they were far enough away, Uhura said, “I won’t let him. The doctor won’t do it. I’ll tell Scotty and Scotty will let him know.”

Anne remained silent. She’d done nothing to deserve help.

“Do you hear me? It won’t happen,” Uhura said, softly and vehemently. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Opening the door to her quarters, Anne held it for Uhura, closing it behind them before she spoke. “Let the doctor do what Loche says. Loche will be alone, with me.” She almost continued, but stopped herself. What was it about Uhura that made her feel she should be honest? “It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Better just to do what he says. If I carry his child, he won’t hurt me too badly.” So this was the end she’d felt looming ahead. Loche wanted her to be a vessel, a carrier for his progeny. It wasn’t her life he wanted to erase, just her self, her independence, her existence as anything more than an incubator. He wanted to remove her from herself, and replace her with something she had never wanted to be, something he would insist was her purpose.

Bouncing the baby in her arms, Uhura shook her head. “Please trust me,” she said. “Please. I can’t tell you how much you need to trust me right now. It will make everything easier.”

Watching her, Anne almost felt as if she could. Her large dark eyes were so open, so wide and unguarded-- Anne felt like Uhura would help her, if she could. Anne stayed still. “No. If I do, and you leave, I won’t survive it. If I do, and you stay, he will make me hurt you.”

“What if you could leave too?” Uhura asked.

“I can’t. I have nowhere to go that he won’t find me.” Anne walked over to the door that led into her bedroom and opened it, gesturing Uhura inside. She could have the bed. There were couches out here that Anne could sleep on. And anyway, it felt wrong for the child to stay in the same room as the statue that had killed her mother. Loche had made it a present to her; it sat on one of the tables, its face half chipped off from striking the floor. The blood had been cleaned off long ago. “I’ll move your things.”

“Anne, please believe me,” Uhura said softly. “Please.”

That gave Anne a moment of pause. “I never told you my name.” She could have gotten it from Tarenn, maybe. Anne didn't think she would have given it out herself.

“Yes you did,” Uhura said. “Anne Madeline Hardesty.” The baby whimpered again, maybe sensing the tension, and Uhura soothed it.

Uhura knew her name, her whole, real name. She couldn't have gotten the whole thing from Tarenn. He hadn't known it. He'd never cared to find out. That meant that at some point Anne had given it to someone, or someone had taken it. She knew more than Anne wanted her to know. Was she dangerous? Looking sharply at Uhura, Anne felt her entire body tense. “What happened to me?” she asked in a rush, feeling as if her breath was being sucked away.

“Just trust me,” Uhura said. “Please. If you find out, he’ll find out.”

“Tell me,” Anne said urgently. It felt like her entire body was thinning, hardening into something dangerous. “Tell me now. _Now._ ” Muscles tensed with the need to know, she took a step toward Uhura, her entire being coiled, poised, ready to spring. “ _Tell me now._ ”

The moment stretched out, Uhura watching her, Anne teetering on that delicate point between stillness and sudden, vicious movement. Uhura’s large brown eyes were steady, and when she spoke, her voice was soft. “You made me a promise. Stand down. That's an order.”

The words tweaked some half-remembered feeling, a moment of tension, of shame and relief and confiding that didn't fit with anything Anne remembered. Nevertheless she subsided, the surge of viciousness leaving her. She knew it was true. Whatever had happened to her, she had made a promise to Uhura, and that meant she’d had a reason for it. She had to trust herself that it had been a good reason. She had to trust her instincts. They kept her alive. “He’ll kill you if he realizes anything at all.” Anne stepped away, the last bit of tension draining from the room. “I’ll move your things, and then afterward I want you to stay in the bedroom. Don’t talk to me unless you need to tell me something about the baby.”

“God, Anne,” Uhura said. “All right. Just keep him busy, if you can.”

Anne paused, looking back over her shoulder, then looked away and left the room. It wouldn’t do to confirm anything, but she would do as Uhura had asked.

She had to trust herself. There had been a reason, even if she didn't know it. And anyway, tomorrow she would kill him. The possibility of anything beyond that would cloud her thoughts. If she could just remove everything else, detach herself from everything but the thought of being the instrument of his death, she knew she could do it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lateness. I'll try to scrape something up into an extra for Monday... it's been a bad day.


	46. Chapter 46

Kirk scowled at the image of Captain Vergne of the Farragut-A on his desktop screen. “The plan’s not changing. We’re just adding new information. Uhura recommended cutting off Section Three from the rest-- said there are blast doors that will come down in case of depressurization.” **  
**

Vergne pursed her full lips, a frown creasing her brow. She looked no different than she had when he’d served on the Farragut during his Academy days, with her perfectly arched eyebrows and an expression that firmly asserted that she didn’t suffer fools. She’d been First Officer then, and half the ship had been in love with her, but her no-nonsense demeanor had kept most at a distance. “I don’t like it, Kirk. I don’t like this whole thing. We’re not military.”

“I don’t care, Vergne. My people are on that base and I’m getting them out.” Kirk sat back in his chair. They had this argument every time they spoke. “Normally I’d agree with you. This is more like a military operation than I’m entirely comfortable with. But we can’t have a known slaver ring running in Federation space, and we had intelligence--”

“I know,” Vergne said. “I know. All right. Let’s go over it again.”

Half an hour later, Kirk was finally satisfied. “I’ll contact you as soon as we hear more. Look, Vergne, I’ll personally owe you for this one. And afterward, we both go back to exploration. That’s Command’s word, not mine.”

Captain Vergne brushed back her red hair. “When we get back to Yorktown, let’s go for drinks,” she said.

Shaking his head, Kirk gave her a grin he didn’t feel. It wasn’t that he was any less attracted to her; she still reminded him of pinup girls from the second World War. He just couldn’t even consider it right now. “Sorry, Ella. Got a girlfriend.”

Her big blue eyes widened. “Really. You?” She smirked. “Who is it?”

“Who do you think I got all my intelligence from?” Kirk asked, then felt his expression harden. “Why do you think I want my people off that base so badly?”

“You cold bastard,” Vergne said, not without a certain amount of admiration, as well as a measure of ambivalence. “Well. Some other time, then. Unless it works out for you. Vergne out.”

Kirk slapped the disconnect on the viewscreen and wiped a hand over his face. Vergne was a good Captain, and a friend of sorts, but he wasn’t about to explain Anne to her. That was too personal. While he’d slept with Ella, they’d never gotten emotional about it, and there was no way he was starting now.

Claudia looked up from her padd, shaking her head. “Captain, vitals are rising. Scotty and McCoy are stressed, and Uhura is getting upset.”

“And Anne?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s almost like she’s asleep.” She shook her head. “I don’t like it.”

Another code burst from Uhura came through, directly to his screen. Kirk read it over. “Map Section Two and Three near complete. Transporter augmentation finished. Section One no transporter possible.” Kirk tapped a code into his viewscreen. “Mr. Chekov.”

“Aye sir,” Chekov answered.

“We’re going to have to take Section One from Section Two. Notify the Section One team.”

“Aye sir,” Chekov said. “Vhen vill ve receive the maps, sir?”

“Shortly before we leave, Mr. Chekov. Whenever that is. Study what you've got for now. It should be accurate enough. Kirk out.” Punching in a different code, he saw that Sulu was on the bridge. “Sulu. Where’s Spock?”

“Resting, sir. I just got on.”

“All right. Let me know if anything changes.” The words were empty; he knew that he would know everything as soon as it happened.

Another code burst from Uhura. They were becoming more frequent now, as if she knew she was unsupervised, or as if things were heating up there. They shouldn’t have been, though. There should be nothing going on. He didn't like it. “One third crew complement on shift Sections Two and Three. One third sleeping Section One. One third unaccounted for.” Kirk sent that on to Chekov.

Claudia suddenly gasped. “Shit. Anne’s spiked. Brain activity just jumped straight to gamma waves, adrenaline, heart, respiratory are all spiking, something’s going wrong, Jim.”

Almost at the same moment, a huge code burst came through. The maps, still only mostly complete, bracketed by words:

“NOW NOW NOW”

Kirk was already running for the door, his communicator in his hand, barking orders to Sulu and Chekov. “Claudia, get Spock,” he snapped as he left the room. He didn’t need her acknowledgement to know she would do it.

Once on the bridge, he had them hail the Farragut-A. “Vergne, this is it. Maximum warp, immediately.”

“Acknowledged. See you there, Jim.” Vergne cut contact, and he could almost hear the echo of her barking orders in his memory.

“Hawkins. Shipwide channel.” Kirk waited for Hawkins to acknowledge. “Prepare for warp eight. We’re going in. Our crew members on the base are counting on us to make this as fast and easy as possible. Let’s get this taken care of. Kirk out.” This was no time for speeches. Everyone knew what their duty was; they’d been waiting for the last two days. Hawkins cut the channel, and Kirk said, “Mr. Sulu, get us there. Spock will be here soon. I’m heading down to the transporter room.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Sulu stayed at the helm, punching in co-ordinates and velocities, and as Kirk walked toward the turbolift, he saw Sulu push what he always thought of as the throttle forward.

Spock stepped out of the turbolift. “Captain.”

“You have the conn, Mr. Spock. Keep any of the ships that get out occupied. I’ll update you as soon as we’re able.” Kirk stepped into the lift.

“Captain.” Spock didn’t need to ask questions. They knew each other too well for that. The doors slid shut and Kirk waited impatiently for the turbolift to take him where he needed to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting an extra for sure this Monday - couldn't have it quite ready for last Monday :)
> 
> Future Edit: [Here it is!](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/175027685491/walking-wounded-deleted-scene-11)


	47. Chapter 47

The knife slid down Anne’s shoulder, touching the fading mark there as if Loche wanted to cut it out. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice smooth, even. “Where were you, my little brute? Who touched you, who softened that hard heart of yours?” **  
**

Anne shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You know,” Loche said. “I saw the way the other woman looked at you. She knew you. You know.”

“I don’t,” Anne said. “I don’t remember her or anyone else.” But she had made sure Uhura stayed with the baby, drawing Loche away and into the privacy of his chamber. If she didn’t kill him, he would take Uhura next, and who knew what he would force her to do to Uhura.

He must have known she was telling the him truth, or at least part of it, because he only became angrier. “Then we will find out, you and I.” Laying his hand on her shoulder, he pushed her down to the bed, contemplating her. “I meant to do this before you escaped,” he mused. “My son will have many other mothers to watch over him. Perhaps I’ll keep the dark one too. She would be a curiosity. How do you think her skin would scar? Should we start with her face?”

Anne didn’t answer. Any answer would be wrong.

Loche smiled. He kept his body interposed between Anne and the tray of knives. “We’ll see just how much you need to lose before you become a perfect mother. And then you’ll be my madonna, pressing bloody kisses on my son’s forehead. Art is the most beautiful thing about religion, wouldn’t you agree? And religion is ultimately a tool to make certain everyone knows their purpose. You have never accepted yours, but you will.”

Anne closed her eyes and readied herself for the pain as best she could without any visible movement. He was right about one thing-- she was trying very, very hard right now to keep her purpose foremost in mind.

“Tell me you love me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now might be a good time to remind people that I'll give you an extra chapter if you can identify any of the movies/music mentioned in the story [to clarify: movies or music that Anne and Jim have watched or listened to!]...


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence

Kirk beamed into Section Two with the security teams as soon as the shields flickered out enough to be safe, and immediately set off a firefight that ended with no casualties on his side. They’d taken the technicians by surprise. “Get over to the passage and shut those blast doors,” Kirk said, directing half his team to hold position while the other half covered the area behind them. The Section Two map appeared before him, and he tracked his men around the holo. “Sweep this side first. Check all the bays, check under the desks, behind all the machinery, look for Scotty and McCoy.”  


“Mr. Scott has taken ze runabout back to ze Enterprise,” Chekov said, watching Kirk as he received communications from the Enterprise. “He vas trapped in Section Three. Spock has given him enough cover to get to ze ship.”

“One down,” Kirk muttered. “All right. Find McCoy. And Section One team, assemble at the other passageway. We’re going to fight our way in. They won’t be barricaded in yet, but there’s a third of the crew complement there and they’ll know something’s going on by now.” He looked over at Chekov. “You’ve got our backs, Mr. Chekov. If we aren’t finished before you have Section Two subdued, feel free to come and help.”

Chekov nodded. “Aye aye, Keptain.” He turned to his own security team and began to have them sweep the area as Kirk had suggested.

It didn’t take long before Bones came running up, under phaser fire and cover of Chekov’s team. “Uhura and Hardesty--” he said.

“Got it covered, Bones. My team’s going in.” Kirk slapped his shoulder. “We have two wounded.”

“Jim, you need to get there _now._ I’d’ve killed that man myself if I knew you were coming. Uhura reported that he’s sealed in with Hardesty.” 

A distant explosion rocked the asteroid. One of the shield generators, no doubt, succumbing completely to Scotty’s sabotage. “Report later,” Kirk said. “Get the med bay set up. I’ll get them out.”

Bones nodded, grabbing his kit. “Bring them to me when you find them,” he said. “They’ll need the help.”

That was probably the most ominous thing Kirk had heard all night.

The team broke through to what Uhura had labeled the harem with very few issues. It wasn’t as well-protected as it could have been. Nevertheless, Kirk had to station men at all the entries to hold it, and the women in the harem seemed more inclined to scream than to take the escape presented to them. A few of them tried to fight, but Kirk made the decision to barricade them into their rooms-- they wouldn’t be depressurizing this zone, so there was no chance the women would be hurt.

The third room they opened had Uhura in it, holding a baby. “Captain,” she called, her words rapid-fire staccato in her haste to get them out. “He took her. He’s got her, he said he wanted to cut out her eye--”

Kirk had to force himself to remember his team. They were still busy setting off firefights with the guards. Uhura could handle it. She was decisive, she knew her tactics as well as any of the bridge crew, and she knew the area better than he did. “Uhura, take control of this area. Spock and Chekov will back you up if you need it. Do whatever it takes.” He looked at the baby. “Bones is back along the passage in Section Two.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, handing the baby off to one of the red-shirted security ensigns. “Go, I’ve got it!”

Kirk knew where to go. The doors had been sealed, but Loche’s rooms were obvious on the holo, and a few phaser blasts took care of the door, overheating the phaser. Kirk grabbed for his backup and booted the door in, meaning to take a shot at Loche before the man could even muster up some cover.

All thoughts of strategy fled when he saw the figure on the bed. “Anne,” Kirk heard himself say, as if from outside his body.

She knelt on the bed, face upturned, hands folded in her lap, barely dressed in something that Loche had cut mostly away. One eye socket was full of blood. He couldn’t tell if her eye was still there. She looked like a white tiger with bloody red stripes, a wraith, a banshee predicting her own death. “Anne!” he yelled.

She didn’t respond.

Loche came for him then, throwing him against the door, Kirk hitting hard and trying to roll out of the way. That bastard was so damn _fast_. Loche kicked the phaser, knocking it aside, out of reach. Kirk backed off and stood, aiming a punch at Loche’s jaw to distract him. “Anne!” he yelled again, looking to her.

She did nothing.

Loche’s fingers snapped around his wrist, yanking him forward, and Kirk barely managed to sidestep the knife aimed at his chest. “Damn it, Anne, get up!”

“Was it you?” Loche asked. “Were you the one who undid so much of my work with that beautiful brute?” He was cold, inhumanly so, the easy grace of a predator contained in his every movement and the magnetism of command in his voice. No wonder Anne had been so terrified of him. A man like this could raise an army. Kirk wrested his arm away and backed off. 

“I’ll kill you,” Kirk said, feeling utterly emotionless. “You’re going to die.” If there was any fairness in the universe...

Loche lunged for him again, the knife flashing in the dim room. Kirk danced backward, Sulu’s footwork drills coming easily. If he could hold out, keep moving, Uhura would be close behind. 

“If you do, will you raise my son?” Loche asked mockingly. “You wouldn’t make her--”

Kirk tried not to hear Loche’s words and failed, leaving himself open just enough to catch a body shot, Loche’s fist smashing into his ribs. He wasn’t sure whether the punch or the thought of what Loche implied rattled him more. “Anne, get up!” he called as he scrambled back, trying to keep an eye on Loche at the same time as he searched Anne for any sign, any hint of movement. There was none.

He had to get off the defensive. Loche would run him down. Kirk dodged aside again, the knife slicing through his shirt. Loche was just so damn fast. Did you have to be violently insane to be that fast?

Loche laughed. “She bends best when you take a firm hand with her, you know,” he said, his voice conversational. Kirk backed away, managing to get a table between him and Loche. His fumbling hand happened on the back of a chair, and he picked it up, swinging it in Loche’s direction. The man dodged, of course, his body there one moment and gone the next. That was fine. Kirk hadn’t thought he’d hit him that time. 

Suddenly Loche turned, and an icy burst of fear shot up Kirk’s spine. Anne was unprotected and Loche was between them, heading for her. Desperate, Kirk threw the chair he’d picked up.

Square hit, right in the back. Loche staggered. Kirk rushed forward, meaning to press his advantage-- and quick as a snake, Loche was at him. The knife flashed again and Kirk dodged to the side, but a carpet edge caught his foot, and that tiny stumble was all it took. A tingling, scorching line slashed across his stomach. He felt himself bleeding immediately, and knew it was deep. There was no pain just yet. He hoped Uhura would make it there soon. Fumbling for his communicator, he unhooked it from his belt, hoping he could get through before the pain disabled him.

He hadn’t even noticed his legs giving way. Loche grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, knife tip wavering between his throat and his eyes. “I should make her watch me cut you up. Maybe that will prompt her memory.”

The pain finally hit, and Kirk felt himself make a noise like the wind had been knocked out of him. They said belly wounds hurt the worst. It seemed to start in his knees and loosen everything between them and his throat, making him feel like he was about to come undone, pain pouring through his body. He made himself speak in spite of it. The adrenaline must have been helping. “You’re done here,” Kirk gritted. “There are two Starfleet ships outside and we have your base subdued. Your entire operation is over.”

Loche’s scowl as he went to answer was the darkest thing Kirk had ever seen, his hatred so black that light seem to disappear into his eyes. “Then it doesn’t matter if you die,” Loche said, pulling back the knife.

A terrible shriek sounded behind Loche, a split second before he went down. Anne’s mouth was full of blood, but she must have bitten her tongue to keep silent while he cut her-- Kirk saw her lick her teeth as if to clear them for biting. She’d hamstrung Loche first. “Anne,” Kirk said. Those misty eyes of hers flared and burned, both of them, like white fire.

When he looked at her eyes, he didn’t see her. Just an animal, the fulfilled promise of every feral flicker he’d ever seen. She paused, looking him over and then dismissing him, turning her attention back to Loche. Her instincts were good. Loche was turning on his good leg, his arm lashing around so that he could stab her. Anne flowed backward, then in, pressing toward Loche in the wake of his blade, her knife driving in under his rib cage. The angle was wrong to end him then and there. She snarled as his knife skittered over her ribs, opening another red tiger stripe, but didn’t seem to feel it although Kirk could see bone.

Kirk flipped the communicator open. “Uhura,” he said. “Get help. Medical. McCoy. Get us out of here. Anne’s hurt.”

There was no answer. He wondered whether Uhura had made anything out through the magnetic interference. He wasn’t even sure if he’d managed to find the right frequency. Blood rushing from his wound left him dizzy and light-headed on top of the crippling pain.

Anne snarled again, dancing away as Loche lashed out at her again. The wounds slowed him enough that it looked like she simply plucked the knife out of his hand, the way she’d plucked the scalpel out of the air so long ago, this time tossing the knife aside where it couldn’t be reached. It took a split second before Anne lunged back in, and then Loche’s knife hand was ruined, her blade cutting through his palm like it had barely been there. Blood poured down the side of her face from the cuts around her eye. She didn’t appear to notice, snapping the knife around in her hand and smashing the hilt into the corner of Loche’s jaw, her hips twisting the way Kirk had showed her and her form perfect. Loche went down and stayed down this time. Kirk felt… vaguely proud that she’d remembered how to do that after so few lessons. His vision began to grey out as Anne flipped the knife around again, stepping toward Loche to end it.

She paused. He thought she paused, but it was so hard to concentrate...

Pressure on his stomach roused him. He looked up to see Anne putting her hands on his stomach, trying to hold the wound closed with a blanket torn from the bed. “Hey, tiger,” he made himself say, trying to smile. Loche’s still form lay near them, chest rising and falling.

Anne looked down at Kirk, but he saw no recognition in her eyes. Just a little spark, a little flare of curiosity, and then she dismissed him again. He was not her concern, beyond his wound. She pressed on it, keeping it closed, and her eyes burned sullenly as she watched the door. She was losing blood too. He wasn’t sure whether she was waiting to kill the next person who walked through, or waiting for help to come. He thought the latter. He hoped the latter. He passed out, hoping.


	49. Chapter 49

Waking up in an isolation room in the med bay was a little like waking up in heaven. Kirk felt his stomach under the bandages; Bones had patched him up, he was sure of it. There was a bit of weakness, but nothing that worried him. “Report,” he croaked. No one answered. Pushing himself up in bed, he cleared his throat and snapped, “Status report!” **  
**

Sulu stepped into the room, his relief evident. “Captain. Spock is at the conn, Chekov at the helm.”

“Good. Casualties?” Kirk swung his feet over the side of the bed.

Looking uncomfortable, Sulu said, “Captain, medical orders--”

An alarm started going off the moment he tried to stand. “What the fuck is this?” Kirk said, slapping at the machine that appeared to be making the noise. He didn’t see the off switch anywhere. “Sulu, casualties?”

Hayes came stomping into the room. “Get back in bed. Now.” Her voice was clipped, her eyes already fierce.

Arguing with Hayes never seemed like a great decision, even in the moment. He did it anyway. “I have work to do, Dr. Hayes--”

Waving away his words with a bandaged hand, she broke in. “And you can do it from here. I’m not stupid. I’ll make sure you have whatever you need. But you’re going to stay in bed because if I have to wake Leonard up for another three hours of surgery, I will kill you myself.” She poked her head out the door, calling to someone else. “Ensign Maroa. You’re assigned to the Captain. If he gets out of bed, you come get me, but if he asks you to bring him anything, you do it.”

Kirk sighed. “I feel fine.”

“That’s because I have you drugged to the gills,” Hayes said. “Get back in bed.”

“Claudia--”

“How the fuck did she make you listen?” Hayes grumbled under her breath.

“Where is she?” Kirk asked. He knew the answer wasn’t good when Hayes pressed her lips together.

“She’s resting. You can’t see her. It wouldn’t be good for either of you.” Dr. Hayes shook her head, her tone softening. “Jim, get back in bed, get your reports and your work done. You need to be the Captain for a while, and once you’re done, we’ll talk about her.”

Claudia’s advice was too sensible. “How do you know? How do you know what it would do--”

“Because she’s either catatonic or attacking, and she’s only let Uhura anywhere near her,” Hayes snapped. “She might attack you too. She might not. But we don’t need to find out right now and you have other duties.”

Kirk felt himself swallow hard. “You’re right,” he said. “Sulu, casualties.” He sank back down on the bed, and let Claudia check his monitors and fuss with the sensors.

“No casualties, Captain, only injuries. We took them completely by surprise. A few ships managed to get out of the hangar, but we disabled them before they could do any real damage. None escaped. The entire base is locked down, and the most important prisoners are aboard ship, in the brig. Chekov has full reports on the ground teams. Uhura took Section One. Captain Vergne caught your transmission after some subspace reflection and beamed in to get you out of there.” Sulu stood up straighter. “She asked that you contact her when you can.”

The question he hadn’t wanted to ask. “What happened to Loche?” A fairly large part of him hoped to hear something final. 

“In the brig, sir.” Sulu shook his head. “Persuasive son of a bitch. The guards don’t talk to him anymore, under orders. He got just enough medical assistance to keep him functioning without any need for anyone to check up on him.”

Well, that was not his optimal solution, but Kirk doubted the Federation would ever let him out of rehabilitation. Good enough. “How many prisoners?”

“About three hundred, sir. And then there’s the women. They’re… they need help. They’re worse than Anne said. They love him. Command is sending medical and transport ships. They’re on the way.” Looking out the door, he said, “Ensign Maroa, get us a few padds, some holosketch displays, a portable viewscreen, some coffee, and something to eat.”

“No coffee,” Ensign Maroa said. “Doctor’s orders. No caffeine.”

“Well, get me a coffee, and get him--” Sulu looked at Kirk.

“Just water.” No coffee? This was going to be great.

“Water.” Sulu looked back at him. “I could use a beer,” he said glumly.

“So could I.” Kirk shook his head, “Okay, off the record, before I get caught up on the official version, what happened?”

Sulu shook his head. “I wasn’t there, sir, but apparently Anne tried to stop your bleeding-- except she wouldn’t let anyone near you, so when McCoy got there, she just about took his face off when he tried to get to you. They had to get Dr. Hayes down from the ship. Between her and Uhura, they got Anne subdued. She’s a lot handier with a knife than anyone knew.”

“He made her,” Kirk said hollowly. “She told us once that he made her hurt people. She didn’t want to remember because she hated herself for doing it.”

“Are you sure we can’t just shoot him out an airlock?” Sulu said, his eyes hard enough that Kirk wondered if he was actually considering it. “Best thing I can think of--”

“He’s going to trial, no matter what.” Sighing, Kirk glanced up, accepting food and water from one of the nurses who came to deliver the first load of things Sulu had asked for. Three or four padds sat on the tray. “If she’d killed him then, that would have been different, but…”

“I know, sir. I wasn't serious.” Somehow that didn't ring true, but there was no point in pursuing it. Sulu drank his coffee and tapped on one of the padds. “Anyway. Captain Vergne heard your call and got the co-ordinates from Chekov, then beamed in. She’s the one who brought McCoy. I’m telling it all out of order. Sorry sir.”

“It’s fine, Sulu.” Kirk motioned for him to continue.

“Captain Vergne was there first with McCoy. She couldn’t restrain Hardesty enough to let McCoy work on you. Uhura came after she finished her sweep of Section One. Apparently she just sealed a lot of the rooms shut, said if they were sealed in they'd have no chance to rack up more criminal charges. She should get her formal command training soon, she did great,” Sulu said. “She ordered Hardesty to stand down and it looked like it worked, but we couldn’t trust her. McCoy was busy with you so we brought in Hayes for the other injuries. Hayes shot her up with a sedative and got her on the ship. She, uh… she didn't like that. But after that everything was over. Just mopping up.”

Kirk frowned. “Wasn’t there a baby? I thought I saw a baby.”

Sulu looked awkward. “Uhura said it’s the daughter of a woman Anne killed. They managed to save her even though she was premature and they had very few facilities. She’s around here somewhere. They won’t give her back to the women.”

“They?” Kirk asked.

“Dr. Hayes and Dr. McCoy. They’ve unofficially adopted her. Uhura said her name’s Lilla.” Sulu smiled. “She’s a tough little thing. I’ve been spending my free time with her. I mean, and waiting to notify you. Sir.”

Kirk couldn’t help a small grin. “Okay, I think I’m caught up. Let’s get to work.”

Much, much later, after the orders were written up and issued and Sulu was gone, Kirk convinced Claudia to let him see Anne. She’d frowned, but hadn’t put up that much resistance. “She’s just next door,” Claudia said. “We’d thought maybe if you were close…”

“Yeah,” Kirk said, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Slapping irritably at the alarm that went off, he got rid of the sensors. “Look, I’m not going to sit in a wheelchair--”

“I know,” she said. “At least lean on me.” With the touch of a switch he hadn’t seen, the alarm turned off, and then her shoulder was under his arm, her arm supporting his back. “A few days, that’s all. Leonard wanted to keep you sedated, but I knew you wouldn’t like that.”

“Thanks. Bones does his own thing a bit too often when I’m his patient.” Kirk snorted. “Thinks if I’m not awake for it, he can get away with it.”

“He’s always been that way,” Claudia said, but her laugh sounded forced. “Come on.”

She walked him over to the next isolation room, where he saw the slim figure sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. Her hair was loose, her eyes unfocused, her body clothed in one of the sick bay gowns. He had the strangest feeling that he wasn’t looking at Anne, that she’d left the room and was about to come back to it any moment. But it was her, of course, and Kirk didn’t know what to do. “How long has she been like this?” he asked softly, as if Anne could hear him through the wall.

Maybe she could. He saw her slowly look over in their direction, though not exactly at them. Her eyes were wide open, blank, reflecting nothing of her. Her expression was just as unreadable.

“She doesn’t do that very often,” Claudia said, her voice sounding encouraged. “I don’t think we should test it today, but maybe when we know we can get you out of there fast enough if she becomes violent--”

“How often has that happened?” Kirk asked. There was something here he wasn’t getting.

“She only jumps right to violence when she doesn’t want to do something.” Claudia looked at him. “Most of the people who’ve gotten it bad have been men, Captain.”

“She’s got her reasons,” Kirk said. The knowledge chilled him, as if he’d suddenly breathed in ice. There hadn’t been time, had there? They’d only been ten minutes away. “Test her for pregnancy. Loche said something about making her have his son.”

Claudia’s rich fawn skin paled, her freckles showing. “I’ll get it done.”

“Tell her the result.” Kirk couldn’t believe there was no one in there. “Tell her everything. Everything you think she might want to know. Get her whatever you think she'd want from our quarters. If we can get Spock in there--”

“He’s already refused. She’s too unstable. Any pressure at all and she might not come back.” Claudia sighed. “I agree with him. This looks like a psychotic break. She needs time to come out of it and heal.”

Kirk stepped toward Anne without even thinking about it. “She needs people she can trust,” he said.

“You can’t be that person right now, Captain. You’re hurt, and we can’t risk her hurting you any more. I’m sorry.” Claudia closed her eyes. “I’ll try, until we know she won’t go after you.”

Looking into those blank eyes, he wasn’t sure whether this Anne was capable of hurting him or not. But the Anne he’d seen with Loche had been, definitely, and she hadn’t done it. “I’m not afraid of her,” he said. “She’s still Anne.”

“That’s why we’re keeping you near. If she responds well to you, we’ll know. And you can see her all you want, even if you can’t go in the room.”

“Don’t you ever give her any privacy?” Kirk asked, offended on Anne’s behalf.

Claudia shook her head. “We need to be able to observe her. But we can try it.” She gestured to the room he'd woken up in. “Captain… get back to bed. You need a few days of rest.” Her brows drew together in a small frown. “He almost had you, you know. That wound would have been fatal even a hundred years ago. She kept you from bleeding out or going septic when she just pressed the wound shut instead of trying to put everything back inside the way most people would. It was a matter of seconds.”

“It’s almost as if she knows a bit about medicine, don’t you think?” Kirk said, letting Claudia lead him back to his bed. “Like she’d, I dunno, written a book or nine where medicine was about the same level as the tools she had at hand.” He couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm from his voice.

“What are you trying to say, Jim?” Claudia asked.

“I think she’s there. And I think she doesn’t want to be.” He sighed. “I don’t know how to make her want to come back, but I’ll figure it out.”


	50. Chapter 50

Over the next few days, while he recovered and the security teams got everything organized on the base, he watched her. They’d given her some privacy on one side of the room, and she’d sometimes disappear into it, sometimes for hours. The rest of the time she sat out where he could keep an eye on her. Claudia had sedated her to get the scan for the pregnancy test, and it had come back clean; Kirk thought he saw Anne’s eyes flicker when she was told. But that was all.  


All of the cuts were gone, including the ones around her eye. The line of her jaw was still a bit crooked on the one side, but they hadn’t gotten her into surgery for it yet. She had visitors-- Chekov came to see her, had spoken to her in Russian and gotten no response. He’d glanced at Kirk. “I thought it vas vorth a try, Keptain,” he said.

“You were right. It was.” Kirk watched Anne. “Maybe when she’s a bit more…”

Spock shook his head when he came to see her. “Captain, if I could help, I would. But the complications that--”

“I know, Spock,” Kirk said. “We’ll think of something.”

Uhura came to see her often, the only times that Kirk saw Anne do more than just look straight ahead. Uhura actually went inside the room, took her hands, sat in front of her, and Anne always allowed it-- but always looked away from Uhura, toward the door. That same dismissive motion that she’d given him when he’d spoken to her. What did it mean that he had gotten that, that Uhura got that, but no one else?

Kirk had some ideas, but not ones he wanted to test while Claudia and Bones were around to stop him.

Scotty had come by. Anne had ignored him totally. Same with Bones, even though he still had a scratch on his face where Anne had tried to slash him. She didn’t appear to care that she had tried to attack him. Then again, they were never in the room with her, so he couldn’t be certain she would have ignored them.

What was she reacting to? Kirk couldn't tell.

Captain Vergne had beamed over to see him once the Federation medical ships and transports were on their way. “I should have known you wouldn’t settle for someone who wasn’t crazy,” she’d said when she caught him sitting outside Anne’s room.

“Ella. Come sit down.” He gestured to the seat near the exam table he’d commandeered for a desk. Being intentionally rude was Ella’s way of making sure you could handle being around her, sort of a compensation for her extravagant good looks. Kirk was used to it; over the years, he’d spent time with her here and there. “Want a drink?”

“I’ll have a drink with you anytime, sweetheart,” she said, grinning as she took her seat.

“Maroa, grab us some bourbon from the controlled substances cabinet,” Kirk said. “Get yourself some too and get lost for a while.”

Ensign Maroa had been permanently assigned to him-- probably punishment for listening to Spock instead of Hayes-- and Kirk had run him off his feet fetching and carrying. Maroa seemed grateful for the chance to regain Hayes’ trust, though. By this time Kirk was allowed whatever he wanted. Technically he didn’t have to be in the med bay anymore, but he didn’t want to leave Anne alone.

“This isn’t exactly what I’d had in mind, but it’ll have to do,” Ella said, taking the bourbon from Maroa. “I’d been thinking of something sweatier and more fun.”

He knew she wasn’t serious. “Sorry, Ella. Anne’s…”

“She might not come out of it, you know.” Ella looked sharply at him. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Jim, but…” She sighed explosively. “Look, I had to fight her to get her to leave you to the doctor. She was phased out. And now--”

“I know what it looks like.” Kirk watched Anne sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the wall. “And maybe after a while I’d be ready to ease back. But it’s only been a few days.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then grinned. “Anyone who can live through that hell once and still make jokes about how rough Klingon sex is afterward is worth holding onto.”

“So that’s how it was, huh?” Ella mused. “I’d wondered, you know. She’s not who I’d pictured you with.”

“Why, what did you think--?”

“Dr. Hayes. You know. Someone tall and beautiful, someone who wouldn’t put up with your bullshit.” Ella glanced at him. “Hardesty isn’t your usual...”

“She’s beautiful,” Kirk said, feeling himself scowl. “Just because her looks aren’t in style right now--”

“You’ve got grandpa taste, Jim. You always did with music and now it's spreading.” Ella downed some of her bourbon. “Look at you defending the honor of your lady. At least tell me she had it as bad for you as you do for her.”

He wasn’t about to rise to Ella’s baiting. He ignored it. “Yeah. I think so. We didn’t talk about it.” He jammed his chin on his hand. “I wish we’d spent more time talking.” If they had, maybe he'd know what to do now.

“What were-- stupid question.” Ella shook her head. “So she had it just as bad as you did. And she agreed to go on this insane mission because…”

“She was protecting Uhura.” Kirk thought about it again. There was something he was missing there. “She wouldn’t listen when I asked her not to go. She wanted to protect the team and she knew the most about what they were getting into.”

“You’re trying to canonize her in your head, Jim. She probably had reasons you don’t know anything about.” Ella regarded him calmly.

“True. I’ve only known her for a couple months. There’s a lot I don’t know about her.” The bourbon burned its way down his throat. “It all happened so _fast_. Everything. I met her, she needed someone, I tried to help her, we kissed… and after a month and a half I’d asked her to move in with me.”

“What a fucking recipe for disaster,” Ella marveled. She was definitely impressed. “Did anybody try to point out that--”

“Over and over,” Kirk said, cutting her off before she could go into why. “Bones and Hayes were pissed about it from the beginning. Believe me, I heard chapter and verse about how awful an idea it was.”

“And that just shoved you together, I bet.” Ella gave him a calculating look. “What do you actually know about this woman, Jim?”

He had to think about that. Aside from how much he liked her, aside from the things she’d implied, aside from how good things were with her, who was she? “She’s… a survivor. And she’s used to doing it on her own.”

Sitting back in her chair, Ella said, “There we go. There’s something real. And what does a survivor do? Especially one who’s only taking care of herself?”

“That’s pretty self-explanatory,” Kirk said absently. “Right up until it’s not anymore.”

“What does a survivor use most when they have no one else to depend on?” When he didn't answer, Ella sighed. “I know you know this. You were top in your class at wilderness survival.”

He sat back, looking at her. “That’s different.” She just looked at him. “Isn’t it?” She continued to just look at him. Kirk sighed. “Judgment. Assessing threats.”

“What would she think is threatening?”

Kirk had to think about it, but it fit. It explained her behavior, all of it. He and Uhura were not threats. Everyone else was varying degrees of threatening. As nonsensical as it was to him to be afraid of anyone in a Starfleet uniform, Anne’s internal alarms were a lot more sensitive, and right now she must be feeling especially vulnerable. “When’d you get so smart, Ella?” he asked. “I don’t remember you being this smart when you were Commander.”

“You never paid attention unless I was fucking you or giving you an order. You always had your eye on the Captain’s chair.” She finished her bourbon. “All right. I’m gonna take off. You figure out how to get your girlfriend back. We can talk back at Yorktown.” She glanced at Anne. “She’s got an interesting face, when you look at her the right way. If you get tired of her, send her in my direction.”

“I’m keeping her while I can, Ella.” He finished off his own bourbon. “We’ll get together on Yorktown. But let me ask, why do all my exes want to get back in my life now?”

“It’s one of the great truths about having a girlfriend, Jim. It just happens. I’m sure Hayes can explain it.” Ella left her tumbler on an examination table when she left the room.

Kirk walked up to the isolation room door. Anne didn’t move. Bones and Hayes were both off, and no one was paying attention. If he was right, he would be safe with her. It was a lot to place on one turn of Anne’s head, not in terms of his safety, but in understanding why she was in this state. “Is she right, Anne? Uhura and I aren’t threatening?” he asked quietly.

Anne didn’t move.

Overriding the lock, Kirk stepped inside, exactly as he’d been warned not to do. She didn’t move. He pulled up a chair in front of her, and her eyes settled on him, then immediately looked away toward the door as if she didn’t need to keep an eye on him. As if any threat would be coming from outside. He examined her face for any expression, for any scars that hadn’t been there before. The only hint of them was that crooked jawline, and the impenetrable grey of her blank eyes. “What are we doing, Anne?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.


	51. Chapter 51

The next morning Kirk went in to see her, and she was gone. Not just hiding behind her privacy curtain, but gone, completely gone. He hadn’t left the door open. She’d been locked in, he'd made sure of it. Had someone let her out? “Claudia,” Kirk yelled. Dr. Hayes came running. “Where is she?” he demanded.  


McCoy came running too, the baby in his arms. He’d been all over the little thing ever since Kirk had seen him. “No one took her out, Jim. She was there last I saw her.”

“Fuck,” Dr. Hayes said, dashing out of the room to go check the records.

Flipping open his communicator, Kirk contacted Scotty and Chekov. “Anne’s gone. We need to find her.”

Scotty said, “I’ll calibrate internal sensors--”

“Get it done, Mr. Scott,” Kirk said.

“I hev had no security reports,” Chekov said. “I vill put ze teams on vatch immediately.”

It took him about forty-five seconds to call Kirk back. “Security is keeping an eye on her, Keptain,” Chekov said, reluctantly.

“Where is she?” Kirk demanded.

“She is… she has just entered ze brig, sir.” Chekov said. “Not causing trouble. Nothing like thet. Ve vill go and get her, Keptain, and bring her back to ze med bay.”

“I’ll meet you there, Mr. Chekov.” Kirk glanced around the room. Would Anne come with him? Would he need to sedate her?

McCoy knew, and gave him a hypo. “See if you can convince her first,” he said. “She might listen to you.”

“Call Scotty and tell him we’ve found her.” He glared at Bones, although it had no force behind it. “I wish you hadn’t taken out that tracking device.”

“I wasn’t going to leave it in,” Bones said. “That would be entirely too much like Spock.”

“I know,” Kirk said, and left the room.

It didn’t take long to make it to the brig. Chekov met him outside, the two security officers he’d brought standing behind him. “I do not vant to bring ze team in unless I hev to, Keptain. I do not vant to frighten her.”

Chekov understood the situation. She might be dangerous if she was frightened. “Good. Mr. Chekov, wait here. I’ll go in and see what she’s up to. If I need you, I’ll yell.” Kirk clapped him on the shoulder, and then stepped into the brig.

To his surprise the officers were there, they were both male, and Anne wasn't attacking them or even paying attention to them. Maybe it was because neither of them were doing anything but looking in her direction every once in a while. They’d been told to keep their distance and not to interact with her, and luckily they hadn't tried to interfere with her once they’d realized she wasn’t all there. She was sitting on a bench in front of one of the cells, ignoring them. Kirk had a feeling he knew which cell she was sitting in front of. “Anne,” he murmured as he walked toward her. She didn’t move a muscle, but he felt like she was listening. “Come on. He can’t get out unless we let him out. You’re safe.”

She was sitting there, staring into Loche’s cell, and he was staring back at her. Just waiting. Watching. “You’re incredibly certain you know what she wants, Captain,” Loche said.

“I have a better idea than you do,” Kirk said.

“No, you don’t. But I didn’t pretend to care what she wanted.” Loche answered. “There’s something refreshing about honesty, isn’t there, Anne?”

It was the first time Kirk had heard Anne’s name on his lips, and he wanted to punch Loche hard enough that he could never say it again. “Anne. You don’t need to hear what he has to say. You have no obligation to him and nothing to do with him.” Kirk held out his hand. “Come on, now. Let’s go back to the med bay.”

Instead of taking his hand, Anne looked at him, her eyes focusing sharply on him for the first time, bright and suspicious. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“Captain Kirk,” Kirk said, surprised. She’d come back for a moment. “Come on, Anne. No one’s going to--”

“Why don’t I know you?” she asked, standing. She didn’t move away, though.

“You do know me. It’s just sealed away. It’ll come back soon.” He took a tentative step forward, his hand still extended. “The sooner we can get you a bit stronger, the sooner we can get it all back.”

He saw the moment she disappeared again. The suspicion that had surfaced in those grey eyes faded back. She didn’t move, however-- she let him approach, watching him blandly, letting him take her hand. She followed along with him. She didn’t try to get away. 

Someone had brought her a few things at some point, including a little container of hairpins. He put her hair up the way she liked it, in that smooth vertical roll behind her head. It took some figuring out to get it right. He told Claudia what had happened. She and Bones grudgingly agreed to let Anne do as she liked, so long as someone knew where she was.

And the next day, Anne disappeared again. And the day after that. Every day, Kirk found her in the brig, staring at Loche. She didn’t speak again, and neither did Loche. It got to be familiar, the two of them just silently watching each other. Kirk stopped checking anywhere else for her. He knew where she would be.

So when there was an emergency in the brig, he immediately knew she was involved. “Spock, take the conn,” he said, racing to the turbolift.

When he made it to the brig, he could hear the screaming and snarling. Anne was being restrained, badly, by one of the security team, while the other held a phaser on a completely unmoving Loche. His cell was open, the transparent field off. “Anne,” Kirk yelled. She was on the point of getting away. She was too small and quick.

She quieted when she heard him. He saw Hayes’ scalpel flashing in her hand. She still struggled, but she wasn’t trying to hurt the guard anymore. She strained toward Loche. Kirk walked forward, interposing himself between Anne and Loche. “I should let her have you,” Kirk said over his shoulder. “I should just let her go. It’s not like we need you.”

Loche smiled. “She is beautiful this way, isn’t she?”

“You made me into a monster!” Anne screamed. Kirk could almost see the blood again, those red tiger stripes and flaring, burning eyes, like something you might see in a snowstorm just after it tore you open enough to make sure you would die there.

She wouldn’t hurt him. It was Loche she was hunting.

He came toward Anne and carefully put an arm around her shoulders, waving the guard off when she stopped struggling entirely. “Come on, tiger. I’ll get him off the ship if you’ll put the knife down. Captain Vergne can have him, and she won’t let him out of her sight. She knows what he is.” He wouldn’t have called Vergne for backup if she wasn’t that kind of Captain.

“What am I without him?” Anne asked, shuddering. Her entire body trembled except the knife, the gleam of the tiny blade unwinking as it pointed at Loche.”How do I know who I am if l don't kill him?”

Even when she was clearly hanging on by a thread, she was still so damn stubborn. He could relate to that. “You’re Anne Madeline Hardesty. And I helped you find her once before, so we can do it again.” Kirk sighed and kissed the top of her head without thinking.

She dropped the scalpel then, and it clattered on the floor, skidding away. For a moment he was worried that he’d done exactly the wrong thing… but all that happened was that in a low voice, she asked him, “Who are you?”

“James Tiberius Kirk,” he answered. “We were together before. I don’t know whether we still are; that’s up to you.”

Anne seemed to shrink into herself. “I knew your eyes. I remembered them.” Her voice hardened. “I want to watch him leave.”

Kirk flipped open his communicator. He wasn't about to let go of Anne to get to the voice access switch. “Lieutenant Uhura, hail the Farragut-A. I need Captain Vergne to beam over with a security team so they can take custody of the major suspect in this situation. He’s, uh… he’s in some danger here.” Kirk shook his head. “I’m still not sure I shouldn’t let you have him.”

“Please, please,” she said, and he was a bit disturbed by how eager she sounded. He couldn’t blame her, though. Loche had put her through hell.

“Federation law, Anne,” he said, hiding behind the excuse. “I don’t want to have to defend you at a murder trial. But I would if you really needed me to.” He glanced at the security guards. Better to distract her for now. “How did you get his cell open anyway?”

“I stole the backup keypass from one of the guards yesterday.” Anne looked warily at Kirk. “You’re not going to get me in trouble, are you?”

“I’m the Captain, Anne. And the only thing I ever gave you grief about was fighting. Which you were doing again, Crewman Hardesty, but I’ll give you a pass this time since you don’t remember that order.” Kirk felt himself grin. It was good to talk to her again, even if her memories were gone. It felt like she’d been missing so long.

Captain Vergne showed up with her security team within a few moments of Uhura’s request. “So you got it figured out,” she said as she came to stand near Kirk. “What does a survivor do to survive on her own?”

“Eliminates threats,” Kirk said, scowling at her. His arm tightened around Anne’s shoulders. “Did you know? Were you just pulling some cryptic bullshit? Because I could have lived without it.”

Ella laughed at him. “I don’t know Hardesty from a housecat, Jim. I was just asking questions. If I asked the right ones, it’s because I had some distance. You don't have any perspective after all this.”

He looked suspiciously at her, but let it go, waving at Loche. “Get him off my ship. I don’t want to see him again until I see him in front of the Council.”

“You got it, sweetheart,” Ella said to Kirk, arching an eyebrow and looking down at Anne from the corner of her eye, curious and critical. As she did, she motioned to the security team, who began the process of opening Loche’s cell and cuffing him for transport.

Anne blinked slowly up at her and smiled. “I attacked you, didn’t I?” she said. “I’m sorry. How are your ribs?”

“You’re about as subtle as an axe to the forehead, aren’t you? All right, I get it. I got it the first time.” Ella laughed, rubbing her side. Kirk wondered what Anne had done to her. “It’s fine. I’m just here to get this-- suspect-- out of here. I know all about that. Are you going to testify?”

“I’ll testify against him.” He glanced down at Anne, who was still at his side, her body lightly brushing his.

“I will,” she said, her eyes fixed on Loche. “If only because I never, ever want him to go free.”

Loche looked back at her, his eyes as fearless as hers. Kirk felt for a moment like he was watching two predators sizing each other up for their next fight.

He had to break it up. Kirk said, “That’s what you said about Tarenn too. And yes, he’s in rehabilitation, probably for the rest of his life. We did that.”

She looked oddly gratified. “Good.” Looking up at him, she asked, “Is that how I know you?” Her curiosity held him, her eyes wide and bright with it.

“Yes,” Kirk said. “It’s a long story. You’ll remember it soon, but I’ll tell you if you want.”

“You two can tell _me_ about it over drinks when we get back to Yorktown,” Captain Vergne said. Kirk had almost forgotten her presence. “We can call it even after that, Jim. If you’d explained even half of this to me instead of keeping me in the dark, I wouldn't have dragged my feet so much.”

“Starfleet,” Anne said, as if remembering something. “You’re all such good people.” She said it as if she didn’t know how she knew that.

Ella seemed to catch her drift, and Jim realized again that he never managed to give her enough credit. Every time he thought he had Ella pinned down, she went and got even smarter. “Good and bad are judgments that are just as simplistic as they are useful, and tempting. You know that by now.”

Kirk scoffed at Ella’s mildly chiding tone. “Save the philosophy for when we get those drinks. Now’s not the time.” Not when he wasn’t sure whether Anne was going to slip away again any moment.

Ella and Anne looked at each other. “I always did think you were a sweet kid, Jim.” Ella said. “Be nice to him, okay?”

Anne looked her over critically, and Kirk got the feeling she wasn’t really talking about him. “I’ll have to see what I remember first.”

Ella nodded. “That’s fair.”

Kirk knew he was being talked over, but he didn’t mind it as much as he normally would have. Anne was talking. That was good enough. They followed Captain Vergne to the transporter room, where Anne watched with satisfaction as Loche impassively dissolved into nothingness. Kirk’s arm was still around her shoulders. He felt almost… almost normal again.

“Come on, tiger. Let’s go home,” he murmured, steering Anne toward the door. Maybe a quick stop in the med bay first, to let them run their tests and all.

“Where is home?” she asked quietly. “Do I have quarters?”

He hadn’t even thought of that. He’d been so glad to have her back that he hadn’t realized that she didn’t have him back, not yet. “You were living with me,” Kirk said wryly. “You don’t have to. I can sleep on the couch, or we can get you different quarters--”

Anne looked shy. “I don’t know. How do we get my memories?”

“They won’t do anything until they think you’re stable enough to mind meld.”

She sighed, frowning. “This is going to take some time, isn’t it?”

“It might,” Kirk said. “They’ll be worried that you’re going to relapse. Hell, I’m worried about it.”

She looked up at him, and Kirk suddenly felt that familiar mist-dipped sensation, that feeling of being held in place by her eyes. God, he’d missed her. He hadn’t realized how used to it he’d gotten. How intimate they’d been, that her intimate gaze was something everyday to him. “I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”

“What are you saying? Because I don’t want to make assumptions and get it wrong.” Kirk felt her shift uneasily. “If you mean you want to stay in my quarters, I already said I’d sleep on the couch--”

Anne looked away, worried and confused. “I don’t want to be alone. I trust you. You wouldn’t… I mean, if I lived with you, if we shared a bed before-- I wouldn’t have-- not if I didn't want--”

“Oh. Oh god no. If you want me to stay with you,we’ll just sleep.” He couldn’t help a frown. Was that all? He couldn’t be insulted-- she didn’t remember anything about him. He might as well be a complete stranger, and here she was asking to sleep in his bed, knowing nothing about him, knowing only that he claimed that he cared for her. She really did trust him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, be untrue to that. “We’ve just slept together before. We weren't even in a relationship yet. You can ask either of the doctors-- they’ve been on my case about you ever since.” He grinned sheepishly. “I can keep my hands to myself. And I’ve missed just being around you, talking to you.”

Anne relaxed minutely. “I thought… I was worried...” Her eyes flicked towards him and then away in a motion he recognized from the very beginning of their relationship. “I knew someone had treated me well, but I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. Maybe that you’d sold me, or that you decided you didn’t want me.”

Kirk felt his heart break a little for her. They'd never considered how she would rationalize her circumstances. “No. I never owned you. I would never try, never. You’re part of my crew. I almost ordered you not to go.” He closed his eyes briefly, trying not to imagine how she must have hurt. “Almost. But I wouldn’t have forgiven myself for it.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I didn’t lose anyone, not a single crew member, because of you. Uhura and Scotty and McCoy were safe, because you kept that bastard busy. But even knowing that would be the best outcome, I still hated that you insisted on going.” He paused. “You're safe with me, I promise. I told you so many times before you were made to forget-- I told you I’d come for you, and I did, as fast as I could, the moment I could. Maybe you still remember that on some level.”

“I want to stay with you tonight,” Anne said quietly. Was he imagining it, or did she press closer? He didn’t think he was imagining it.

Kirk sighed contentedly. “Hayes is going to hate this. Let’s just skip going back to the med bay.”

“It sounds like the doctors here are terribly opinionated about my life,” Anne said, and he could hear a faint, familiar tartness in her voice.

“They're not shy, that’s for sure. Let's not worry about them for now.” Grinning, Kirk led her toward their quarters.


	52. Chapter 52

Everything felt right. It even smelled right in here. Anne caught a whiff of her perfume in the air, Tiaré Tahiti monoi, and Jim’s soap and skin. And another perfume, faintly, when she drew near to one of the couches. There was a folded blanket and a pillow resting on it. “Was someone else here?” she asked, looking up at Jim. Had he replaced her? So quickly? She felt… uncertain. She had never been possessive, but she didn’t like the idea right now. If he was hers, she wanted him all to herself, at least until she felt a little more secure. **  
**

“Dr. Hayes camped on my couch for a while. She was monitoring your vitals the whole time. I wanted her to wake me if anything changed, and this was the easiest way to make sure that happened.” He smirked. “She left the moment you and Bones-- uh, Dr. McCoy got back.”

“Ah,” Anne said, obscurely comforted. She began to make a circuit of the room, checking the perimeter before advancing further toward the middle of the room, away from the wall. She wondered if Jim would recognize the habit, or the reason for it. “That’s my painting,” she said uncertainly, looking at _La Mariée_. “Isn’t it?”

“You moved your things in here a couple weeks ago,” Kirk said, staying in one place and watching her. He seemed to want to help her, to show her, but he also had the sense not to get too close. She needed to see all this on her own.

“That’s my rug.” Anne looked around and saw the cat on the dining table. “And my sculpture.” It was comforting to have her things around her. It made everything Jim had said more true.

“Yes.” Jim looked her over, then began to move toward the food synthesizer. “I’ll get us some dinner, all right? You must be hungry. You weren’t eating much in sick bay.” Only when someone else made her eat. Hayes had done it, but Anne hadn’t been interested in food, and hadn’t put up with it for long. She couldn’t have been interested. Loche had been on board. Jim gestured to the door nearest to him, but made no move toward it. “That’s the bedroom. Some of your things are in there too.”

Anne didn’t take the hint right away. She wanted to explore first. Finishing her circuit of the room, she investigated the couches, the dining table, and the holoprojector in the round coffee table. Something about that pricked her memory, but it was elusive and wouldn’t stay in her head.

Jim brought the food over to the coffee table. So they were informal? She didn’t think he was the type to stand on ceremony at home. It was something she recognized, little pot pies that looked like they might be turkey or chicken. It pricked another memory, and this one she caught, though the place didn't seem right. “No macaroni and cheese?” she asked.

He looked far more pleased than he had any right to be, his grin bright and comforting, and strangely tempting. She could feel the draw towards him even across the room. “You remembered.”

“I remember a little. Being here makes me remember more,” Anne said warily. She didn’t want to get his hopes up. “I want to look in the bedroom. Is that all right?”

“Of course,” he said, and set the pot pies down on the coffee table. Kicking off his boots, he added, “I’ll just be out here whenever you’re finished. But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. If you want to stay in there, that’s fine. Just let me know and I’ll bring your dinner.”

Anne shook her head, watching him yank off the gold overtunic he wore, leaving him in the black Starfleet issue long-sleeved undershirt. He looked good in black. Actually, he was just incredibly good looking, especially those piercingly blue eyes. She congratulated herself on her taste. “I’ll come back.”

The bedroom was dark and quiet, things she had longed for when she was in the med bay. The lights were never completely off there and it was always noisy. She turned on the lights, and the computer responded to her voice commands without asking for authorization. Her useful lay on the bed. There was another one there, a green and gold one. That was probably his. He’d been to Sivao. A padd lay on the bed, the cover of one of her books on it, and she felt a burst of pride that seemed familiar. Opening the closet, she found her grey and white and black dresses hung in it, behind a row of his gold uniforms. Red uniforms that must have been hers. Boots on the ground. She wondered what she was wearing, and noticed that it was the scrub issue med bay gown. That wouldn’t do, not for dinner.

True to his word, he didn’t follow her in, even when she took longer than she would otherwise have done. Her clothes. Her dress, grey and soft, one that she vaguely remembered him touching. Her hair in the mirror, that she brushed out with her brush and pinned with her pins, that she’d found in her container in the washroom. Her clothes in the laundry. Her perfume near the bed. Her scent on the sheets, her pillow, his body, the faint whiff of sex caught in the sheets when she sat down on the bed--

Anne paused. Not right now. Even if it would prove what he said, it made her-- not frightened, but nervous. It was a bad idea to jump back in before she had all of her memories. She put on her perfume, just a tiny dab, and came back out into the common room.

When she came back, she saw Jim talking to the viewscreen at his desk. “No I’m not bringing her back,” he said, disgusted. “She wants to be here, where she’s comfortable. I don’t see how medical supervision is going to change anything.”

The voice from the viewscreen said, “You’re pushing her, Jim, and if you push too hard--”

“I’m not pushing,” he said. “I’m letting her do whatever she wants. If she wants to push, she can, and I’m not going to stop her. We had this argument way back when this first started, Bones. This is a done deal. Get over it. If she wants to stay here, and she seems like she knows what she’s doing, she can. Log a complaint if you want. You can't hold her in the med bay against her will without a good reason.”

“Fine. But you’d better get your ass down here if anything-- and I do mean anything-- happens. She goes catatonic, you get down here. She gets upset, you bring her here. If you get stabbed in your sleep--”

“We’ll see. I’ll use my judgment. She saved my life, Bones. I’m not worried about it.” Kirk looked up, his eyes softening when he saw her. “I’ll call you if I need you.” He blanked the screen.

“They want me to go back,” Anne said dully. She had started to look forward to staying here in this place where everything felt familiar.

“You don’t have to do a goddamn thing,” Jim said. “I mean, not that they don’t know what they’re doing, but I get you. I think I do.” He stood up from behind the desk. “Do you want to stay here with me? Or do you want to go back and have some privacy? What would be best for you?”

Anne considered him carefully. “Are you asking because you want a specific answer?” she asked. She couldn’t help but be suspicious. He seemed too good to be true.

“I’ve just been following your lead this entire time. You know what will make you feel comfortable better than anyone else.” He walked over to the couch, moving a little more slowly than he had to, making sure she knew he wasn’t trying to grab her or something, that she knew she had time to run. Sitting down, he looked up at her. “Don’t worry about what I want. I can take care of myself, and you too, for a while. At least until I have to go back and be the Captain again.”

“What happens then?” Anne asked, lingering on her feet. She wasn’t sure she wanted to sit down beside him. What if she was too close? Would he--

She stopped herself. She remembered the way she’d felt when she’d first woken up on the Mary Read. She’d felt… contentment, happiness, evaporating away and she hadn’t known why. Just those eyes. He wouldn’t hurt her. She had to trust her instincts and believe that. He would have taken care with her, wouldn’t he?

The way he was watching her suggested that he would. That he had. That he was, that he knew he was leaving enough distance that she wouldn’t feel threatened, that he knew he was keeping it light so that she wouldn’t feel pressured. He answered her with a little grin, or maybe his mouth just looked like it was meant to be smiling. “Then I go to the bridge. It’s one floor up. I read reports, decide how the ship is going to run that day and how the prisoners on the ground get taken care of, and keep track of all the Federation transports that are coming to get us out of here. After they get here, I get us back to Yorktown. A few days of travel, maybe a week. And you-- you do whatever you want. You were working in Engineering, with Scotty, but I don’t think you need to worry about that until you have your memories back. You’re on medical leave until then. So you can stay here, or go to the med bay and reassure Claudia and Bones, or visit with Nyota, or… whatever you want. Go flirt with Chekov, if you think you’re up to it. He told me he’d nicknamed you “Little Fox,” and that you basically called him out on sleeping around afterward. Called him a tomcat.” Kirk grinned. “He’s a good guy. He won’t push you. He’s young but he’s got some sense.”

Anne giggled, covering her mouth. That sounded like the real her, the self from before Loche. “I don’t remember that, but…”

“Well, he does.” Kirk leaned away from her a bit, patting the couch near him, but not so near that she couldn’t bolt if she needed to. “He thinks he can handle you. He doesn’t know you like I do. You’d eat him for breakfast.” Kirk’s grin widened. “That one little dimple of yours is adorable, did I ever tell you that?”

“I don’t remember,” Anne said. Strangely, she didn’t feel pressured by his flirtation. It felt… natural. As if he liked to do it for its own sake. She seated herself on the couch, a little closer than he’d indicated, and saw his grin widen just a shade further. The pot pie was still warm. “If I just want to stay here?”

“You’re welcome to. There’s a library of movies, and books. There’s your seedlings.” Kirk gestured to the pots near one of the lights. “You have no idea how much I had to look up to make sure I could keep them alive while you were gone. I don’t know the first thing about plants.”

“What if I wanted to come with you?” she asked.

“You actually have a station on the bridge. You’d be bored, though. You weren’t assigned any duties.” He shook his head. “Actually, maybe you’d be fine. You could just sit there and admire me while I work. That would take up _all_ your attention--”

Anne caught herself laughing and covered her face again. He was ridiculous. No wonder she felt so comfortable with him.

“God, it’s good to see you laugh,” he sighed, and she could see the relief in his eyes.

“You were worried about me,” Anne said. She knew it from how he had spoken, but she felt like she needed to hear it.

“Every second you were gone,” Jim answered. “Drove everyone nuts. Even Spock was irritated with me.” When she didn’t get it, he clarified. “Spock’s Vulcan.”

Anne felt her eyebrows rise. “You were so worried you irritated a Vulcan.” That was… an accomplishment.

“You can ask him about it. He’ll probably just frown at you and say he wasn’t irritated, but he was.” Kirk shook his head. “Yeah, I was that worried. I mean, I was worried about all four of you, but you were in the most danger and I knew it.”

“I’m sorry,” Anne said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She wished he hadn’t worried… but she was glad he’d cared enough to worry.

Kirk shook his head again. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It was just… circumstances. Everything went haywire when we realized you could get killed if you knew anything about the mission at all. But let’s talk about that later. We don’t have to be serious right now, and I missed seeing you laugh. You’re gorgeous when you laugh.”

“You’re flattering me,” Anne said, but she couldn’t help being shyly pleased.

“Nope. The second night we slept together, just slept, I woke you up by calling you that. I meant it then and I mean it now.” He looked a little bit shy himself, the expression not one that sat easily on his face. Anne guessed that he didn’t feel that way very often. “You got under my skin so fast, Anne Madeline, and there’s so much I don’t know about you. And we don’t have much time to find out.”

She remembered that, the sense of time running out. It made her feel a bit cold inside. “What do you want to know?” she asked. “I’m pretty sure I would tell you anything right now.”

“God, all the normal stuff we never got around to. Where were you born, what’s your favorite color, what’s your favorite food, do you like fancy dinners or dive bars or do you like staying at home, is there anything you’ve always wanted to do, do you like to have company over, who are your close friends, what’s your favorite place in the world, galaxy, universe--”

Anne laughed at the huge list, shaking her head. “Okay, I’ll answer any and all of those if you tell me your answers first.”

“That’s no fair, you know most of this stuff about me already,” Jim protested, obviously not seriously.

“No pay, no play,” Anne giggled. “Anyway I don’t know, not right now.”

“Okay, fine, you have a point.” Jim sighed. “I was born in a shuttlecraft escaping from the Narada when the USS Kelvin was destroyed. You know about that, right?”

Anne nodded. “You’re that James Kirk,” she said. “Yes, I know about it. I’ve heard of you.”

He liked her lack of sympathy; he gave her a crooked grin. “Yeah. And I’d read your books, so we were even. But it’s your turn.”

Shaking her head, Anne gave him an embarrassed grin. “It’s nothing that special. I was born in Marseilles.”

“You’re French?” Kirk asked, curious. “I thought the French still learned French as a first language. And your name isn’t French. Well, mostly.”

“I have British ancestry,” Anne said evasively. “It’s not that uncommon. And yes, French is one of my birth languages.”

“You learned American English, not British. And how come you’re interested in American history?” Kirk thought. “Although that does explain the food thing. And that accent I heard.”

“I’m allowed to have interests outside of France. I like America, I moved there for a few years,” Anne laughed. “And the accent… I usually only have one if I’ve been speaking to someone from France or England. I learned both languages from birth, got a voice coach to learn an American accent when I started to get publicity. It made me less identifiable, although it does slip a bit if I’m upset.”

“Why does Claudia think you were born in South Africa?” he asked.

“It’s easier not to let everyone know where I’m from. Anyway, I’m technically a citizen.” Wondering if that would seem odd to him, she passed over it as quickly as possible. It wasn’t exactly legal. “Next question?”

“Favorite color.” He looked her over, his gaze lingering on her hair and eyes. “I’m starting to think mine might be silver. It used to be gold.”

“For the shirt.” Anne said, trying to ignore her blush. She couldn't tell if he was just flattering her again or not. “The command branch color.”

“Got it in one.” Kirk said. “Yours?”

“Red. I can’t wear it, but I love it. Red roses. White. I can wear white. Gardenias are white.” Anne shrugged. “Black. It makes me look so pale, but it feels so safe, like wearing it makes you invisible. It's like hiding in the dark. There are black roses, you know.” She paused, looking at him, then smiled. “Blue is starting to get up there, though. And I’ve heard it looks better on me anyway.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kirk said. He looked quizzically at her. “How old are you?”

Anne shook her head. “You first,” she said, grinning.

“Thirty. I’m getting to be an old man,” Jim teased.

“You’re the same age I am,” Anne said.

“No way,” he said. He looked her over. “No. I could have sworn… maybe it's the hair throwing me off. You don't look my age, you look a couple years younger.”

“Nope. I’m thirty.” Anne grinned. “Next question.”

Jim cocked his head, watching her, seeming to word his question carefully. “Where did you grow up?”

She wondered if he knew she didn’t like to talk about her family. Would she have told him that? After careful consideration, she decided that yes, if she had moved her things into his quarters, she probably would have said something, or he would have mentioned family already. “Marseilles. I ran away when I was fourteen and emancipated myself.”

He nodded, and didn’t ask, and Anne knew that it wasn’t because he didn’t want to know. Her heart squeezed almost painfully-- she could see why she’d fallen for him. “I grew up in Riverside, Iowa. My brother ran away when I was a kid, and…” He shrugged, his eyes skimming away from her. “That’s when I started acting up. Drove my dad’s car off a cliff. Started getting into fights.” He poked at his food, not looking at her. “I didn’t leave until I was twenty-two, and even then it was only because I joined Starfleet.” He grinned. “You didn’t know some of that before. I’m not big on my own sob stories.”

Anne nodded, watching him from the corner of her eye as she ate. “Neither. Maybe I’ll tell you more when I have my memories back. I’m still getting used to you.”

Rough spot over. “It’s not that big a job, is it?” Jim asked, raising an eyebrow at her and giving her what she assumed was his most charming grin. She hoped it was. She wasn’t sure she could stand it if he had an even more charming grin.

“I don’t know. Is it?” she asked.

That earned her two raised eyebrows, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “You must be getting tired,” Jim said, laughing. He seemed to think nothing of it, just treated it as a joke.

If she’d been that comfortable with him, that he’d play with innuendo like that and not worry about how secure she felt-- if he’d seemed to think it was any sort of invitation at all, she would have bolted. If she had thought it was calculated to put her at ease, she would have been wary. As it was, she spent too long trying to figure out _why_ it didn’t bother her, and he looked over with concern.

“No jokes? That’s fine,” he said. “It was probably a bit soon for that.”

And that was it. Anne relaxed. “No, it’s fine,” she said, and she could hear the warmth in her voice. “I was trying to figure out why it was fine.”

Jim nodded. “Good. I was worried I’d scared you for a moment there. I keep forgetting that you don’t remember how we met or any of that. I’m gonna blame the dress and the hair. It was easier to remember that your memory wasn’t back when you were in scrubs, but now… you look like you again.” He poked at his food once more, then pushed it aside. “Half the time we spent together in the beginning was just me trying to make sure you weren’t frightened of me. I found you on Tarenn’s ship, and you were terrified.”

“Tarenn ran out of money. None of the cargo was his. He was just transporting it for others. He was going to sell all his captives to Loche, but he knew Loche would especially want me. He was hoping to get a good price for me,” Anne said quietly. “I was lucky, if that’s when you rescued me.”

Jim didn’t react much, but she could tell the thought of Tarenn’s plan made him angry. “That’s… awful. And it’s probably not the best time to rehash it, for either of us. We can talk about it later, once you have your memories. I only meant to let you know that I do know what the rules are. The moment you say stop something, I’ll stop. It’s never been worth it to me to scare you or hurt you when I could have your trust instead, and I know that’s what my choices are here.”

Anne watched him with wide eyes. He was utterly sincere. She couldn’t have lived with him and not seen through that, or had some experience or… He had to be sincere. When he was done speaking, she shook her head, biting her lip. “You’re going to make me cry. I’m so relieved, you have no idea.”

Jim laughed wryly. “Don’t cry. We always seem to end up kissing, and that’s way too fast if you don’t remember me.”

That cleared her tears enough to laugh, and Anne pushed her food aside. She’d managed to eat half of it, and it felt like a brick in her shrunken stomach. “Okay, fine. Although I can really see why. Next question.”

“Hmm? Oh.” He relaxed, thought back, and then asked, “What’s your favorite thing to cook?”

“You know I cook,” Anne said blankly, and then shook her head. She shouldn’t have been surprised. “You don’t cook, do you?” When he grinned, she slapped him gently on the arm. “That’s not fair!”

“I’ll tell you my favorite food instead,” he said, still grinning.

“Oh, no ulterior motive or anything,” Anne snorted.

“Hey, you were going to ask anyway,” Jim pointed out. “Anyway, it’s strawberries and cream. In any form. Cake, pie, just on their own.” He gave her that rakish grin. “I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth. I don’t usually indulge it.”

Filing that away for future reference, Anne sighed. “I like anything I can make out of real ingredients. Otherwise we get into synth foods, and the synthesizers can be weirdly spotty about some things. Or at least a lot of them are. This one seems okay, so far.”

“That’s a non-answer,” Jim said, pretending to be offended. “Now you have to tell me your favorite food too, not just your favorite one to cook.”

“Okay, okay,” Anne laughed. “I like to cook eggs best. There’s so much you can do with them. They go in so many different things, and you can make them sweet or savory, solid, liquid, foam-- they’re the perfect food to cook with. But my favorite food to eat? Hmm.” She sighed happily. “Cheese. There’s so much variety. It goes well with so many things. I love it. Cheese and wine, cheese and chocolate…”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Did you want a beer or something? Not that we should go on another bender--” He saw her look of incomprehension, and shook his head. “Sorry. After Tarenn’s trial we stayed up all night and got really, really drunk. We passed out on the couch.”

Anne found herself blinking, the memory almost coming back. “I slept on you. Didn’t I sleep on you?” She looked down at the couch. “Did I? It was here, wasn’t it?”

He laughed, sounding sheepish. “Yeah… Bones woke us up and chewed me out for it. You chewed him out too, a little anyway. You were still pretty jumpy.”

Everything he said just relaxed her further. She’d slept on him, and been safe. She remembered that. She could feel the smile playing on her lips. “I… can imagine.” She could only imagine, because she didn't feel jumpy now, not at all. “But I think it might be a bad idea to start drinking now. I’m… still trying to adjust. Go ahead, if you like.”

Jim shook his head, a crooked grin on his full lips. “It’s getting a bit late for that. We should probably figure out the bed thing and get some rest.”

“What’s to figure out?” Anne asked. The question made her heart pound with as much anticipation as nervousness. “I want to stay with you.”

“Well… we should find you something to wear. I don't know if you even own a nightgown,” he said, and she could tell he was trying to put it delicately in spite of his awkwardness.

The attempt made Anne smile, and eased the butterflies in her stomach a little. “Oh. That.”

He seemed embarrassed, laughing at himself without looking at her. “Well, let’s face it, you have a body that would tempt a saint, and I am not a saint. Normally I’d be overjoyed to have you all naked and pressed up against me, but I don't want to push it that far. We were pretty… involved. A lot. I’d rather not realize I crossed a line because I was half asleep and forgot you don't have your memories.” At her wide-eyed expression, he grimaced. “That was pretty blunt, but I’d rather be realistic and safe than trust that everything will go all right.”

“No, you’re right,” Anne said, still feeling a bit bowled over. That had really just happened. He really had just apologetically explained to her that cuddling up and pressing her naked body against him could possibly result in some sort of lustful advances due to their recent sexual relationship. Anne could only think that if she willingly put herself in that position with anyone, she would certainly hope so. But he was right-- for now it was better not to push that hard. Although… it was tempting, for a few reasons. “I’m sure I can find something.”

He glanced over at her dress, then grinned crookedly. “As long as it’s not that dress. I’ve got a favorite memory of that one landing on my face once. Or your uniform. That would be bad too.” He paused. “Or the scrub dress. Or the white--”

“Maybe you should pick,” Anne laughed. Somehow she couldn’t take the idea of having sex with him as a threat. It just made her nervous, jittery… and eager. Just a little, even if it was a terrible idea. It should have frightened her, after all she'd been through. 

He sat back for a moment, looking at her, then said, “Wait here. I’ll get it.” and disappeared into the bedroom. When he came back out, he had a pile of soft black clothing in his hands. “Here. Let me just get something--” Dumping one of the pieces in her hands, he rummaged in one of the storage compartments until he found a utility knife, and then made two quick cuts in the fabric. Anne’s eyes strayed to the knife, but she made no move toward it. It would have been comforting, but it would have been tempting fate as well. She didn’t want to hurt him, but what if she thought he was someone else? She might hurt him if she didn’t realize it was him.

When Kirk came back, he held up a pair of black pants that had been cut down into shorts. They were standard-issue Starfleet gym pants, with a drawstring waist that looked like it had never been tied. “These were just about ready to recycle anyway, they’re getting worn out. But that’s when they’re most comfortable.”

Anne pulled up the pile of cloth he’d dumped on her lap-- it was a uniform undershirt with the long sleeves cut off and the neck torn out, obviously well-worn and washed many, many times. “I can wear this,” she said, smiling hesitantly. It would be a bit big, but it wouldn’t matter if it gaped while she was sleeping. 

He nodded. “All right. I’m going to go change and then I’ll wait for you out here. There’s another washroom over there. Just come out when you’re done.” He grinned. “If you don’t come out, I’ll just crash on the couch so you can sneak by me to the bed. It usually takes me an hour or so to get sound asleep.”

Anne laughed at the ridiculous idea and stood, taking the makeshift pajamas. “I don’t think you need to worry about it.” As she walked to the washroom, she realized she didn’t have any sense of familiarity with it. None of her things were in there; she realized it as she sifted through the drawers, looking for something to tie her hair. There were things she didn’t recognize-- a brush meant for curly hair, lip color in a shade she couldn’t wear, a length of ribbon-- shoved in the back of one of the drawers, very obviously untouched for some time. Anne decided she would leave them be. Her hair could stay untied. She quickly pulled off her dress and had to take a moment to decide about her underwear. It would be uncomfortable… and the clothes Jim had given her would cover her anyway. She took it off too, and pulled on the shorts and the shirt.

Not very sexy. The shirt was so big that it hung off one shoulder, and she had to yank the drawstring tight around her waist so that the shorts wouldn’t fall off. If she’d wanted a reminder of how much bigger he was than her, and how easily he could potentially overpower her, she definitely had it. As she braided her hair, she wondered if he would get upset if she wanted the knife. After she finished, she decided that asking could upset him, and if it did, she wanted to know now.

The clothes were comfortable, though. They smelled like him, and that was oddly relaxing. Anne draped her dress and her underwear over her arm and left the washroom.

Jim was apparently napping on the couch when she came out, having cleaned up and changed into some soft looking pants of his own and a thin singlet. His arms were so big compared to hers; he wasn’t the bodybuilder sort, but he had some serious muscle. Anne paused near the end of the couch, watching him breathe, uncertain. Everything was telling her that he could be a threat, and nothing in her was telling her that he was one. He was strong enough to hurt her badly if she didn’t have a weapon. She didn’t feel like he would; he didn’t make her afraid at all. It was just that her self-preservation instincts were screaming out that she was being led astray by that feeling of safety.

Loche had never seemed safe to her, but then, she’d only run into him the once before she’d been kidnapped. She’d met him on Yorktown; he must have chosen her on the basis of that meeting. He hadn’t known who she was. He’d had two of his men stalk her, and he hadn’t known anything about her that he could avoid learning.

Jim must have felt her watching him; she didn’t make a sound, but his eyes slowly opened. “You look nervous. You sure you don’t want me to stay here?”

Anne felt nervous. What if he didn’t understand? She made herself speak anyway. “Could I have the knife?” she asked, and she heard her voice break.

If he was shocked, only his blink showed it, and if he was wary, he didn’t show it at all. “If you want. It’s in the compartment there, in the second drawer.” He pointed. “I was wondering if you would want it.”

He’d known. He hadn’t shown her for no reason. Had he known she would ask? Anne put her things down on the table, straying within arm’s reach of him. It was a very calculated move-- if he grabbed for her, she could bolt for the knife. He didn’t move a muscle. He watched her, not warily, but curiously, as she went to the cupboard and opened it. The panel slid away, the disguised bulkhead containing a cubby full of things. Bottles of booze, including a rum she thought she recognized, a cognac, a couple of pieces of clothing that carried that whiff of Dr. Hayes’ perfume. Some drawers. The second one down had the knife lying on top of the rest of the debris. She wondered whether she should take it. Reluctantly, she decided that knowing where it was would be enough, and she shut the drawer without it. Closing the cupboard and turning, she said, “I don’t want it. If I have a nightmare, I don’t want to wake up to blood everywhere.”

He smiled, and it was a bit bittersweet. “We have before. Your nightmares got really bad near the end. It’s okay if you want it. You can put it in the bedroom, somewhere out of reach if you’re worried. I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me.”

“Must be nice to sleep easily,” Anne muttered, not really directed at him. She glanced over at him and smiled. “Maybe I’ll find out tonight.”

Jim swung his legs over the side of the couch and walked into the bedroom, looking back over his shoulder at her to see if she would follow. Anne did, realizing he’d given her his back so that she could feel safe knowing that he wasn’t behind her preparing to grab her or hurt her.

“That looks so incredibly cute on you,” he said, his voice amused, and she knew that again, he was trying to keep it light, to make her feel safer. He flirted like a French man, all bark and no biting intent, for the fun of it and not because he had anything invested in having sex with her. With a word, he dimmed the lights. “You’re so tiny, you look like you're lost in those. I thought it might help-- Claudia did something like that when I was so worried about you. I offered to let her sleep in the bed when she stayed, but she said no and something about your perfume so I'd pay attention to it.”

“Did it help?” Anne asked, hugging the shirt to her body. It did feel comforting to be wrapped in the soap and skin scent of him.

“Yeah. I felt better in the morning.” Throwing back the sheets, Kirk slid into the bed, surprising her by moving onto the other side. Was that her side? She shook her head, bemused at the things she felt like she remembered. That was all right. She could sleep on his side. It might be nicer. Hesitantly, she followed him to the edge of the bed, then climbed onto it, kneeling, not quite certain that this was what she wanted anymore.

“It’s all right, Anne. I’m not going to do anything,” he said. “You could trust me from the beginning. You don’t remember it now, but you will.”

His voice was low and patient, and sleepy. It was the latter more than anything else that got her under the sheets-- she didn’t want him to have to stay awake waiting for her to make a decision. He was warm; her hands felt cold and trembly with her nervousness. She knotted them together and let her head rest on the pillow, looking at him.

“If you need space, you let me know,” he said, slowly lifting an arm and draping it over her. She could have stopped him at any moment, but just then, she didn’t want to. She wanted to hope it was real, that everything he was saying was true, and that he was someone she could trust with anything, everything. She'd never had that before. When she didn’t stop him, he slid his hand along her side, coaxing her closer, not moving her but persuading her along, until her icy little hands were pressed against him, soaking up his warmth, and her head was tucked under his chin.

It felt… wonderful. If it was real, it felt… necessary. Anne felt herself catch her breath, felt tears rising to her eyes, and spent a few moments calming herself down. His hand stroked lightly up and down her back when he sensed her tension, smoothing it away. “Good night, gorgeous,” he said softly, then murmured to the lights to douse them. “Sleep well. I will.”

“Good night, cher,” Anne murmured. It felt familiar and right; it felt more like a home than anywhere she could remember since the first apartment she’d ever rented herself. He smelled right. His breathing and his heartbeat sounded right. The weight of his arm didn’t feel like it was keeping her down so much as it felt like he was shielding her, protecting her.

Anne found herself dropping off to sleep far more quickly than she’d thought, and absently decided that this must be right. It couldn’t feel this way and not be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This song was the inspiration for Kirk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VfWXo9gKYJ0), long before I had the idea for any of the rest. It seems like the sort of romantic lost love thing he would get into... and I can’t help picturing him as a bit of a 50′s type, a little rockabilly, the kind of guy who would have worked on and driven his car incessantly if he’d been alive back then. This song is also the reason Anne’s middle name is Madeline.
> 
> If that’s the inspiration for Kirk, then [this song was the inspiration for Anne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwB-2-YQEy4). I needed someone with vulnerability that would attract him, but also someone with hints of danger in her, someone who would be intriguing to him and press his buttons in all the right ways. To tell the truth, I listened to this song on repeat while I was writing all the parts where Anne fought Loche... it makes a great fight song. :)


	53. Chapter 53

It was a quiet day. Everything was sleepy on the ship, the tension of the past weeks released by the success of their operation. Everyone seemed to feel it, smiling more readily, moving with less urgency. Kirk had the sense that the ship was drifting, and didn’t mind. There was no hurry to get back. Not now that Anne was back to herself a little. **  
**

When he’d left that morning, he’d wanted to kiss her, but he hadn’t-- he’d looked down at her, the long fluttering lashes on her cheek, the little smile on her lips, knowing it would be too soon to take an intimate liberty like that. She had to trust him with that first or it would be an invasion. But she looked so beautiful, lying there dreaming, that he couldn’t help reaching toward her a little, not really meaning to touch her.

He’d left without his fingers ever resting on more than air, and she hadn’t woken. He had an idea that leaving her alone, completely alone, was probably a good plan. She hadn’t been alone since… before she’d left, maybe. Maybe not even then. Maybe she hadn’t been really alone since she’d had her own quarters. He wasn’t sure. But privacy was important, and a sense of control over her surroundings. Putting her in a place she had already marked as hers by spreading her things around, a place where she knew no one else could come unless she allowed it, was probably what she'd want right now. He’d sent messages to Bones and Hayes that they weren’t to bother her unless she didn’t answer any communications.

They had grudgingly replied that they would, and anyway, they were busy with the baby, who was fussing. Kirk felt himself grin a bit at that. Bones was a sucker for babies, especially baby girls. He knew that Bones missed his daughter. Claudia didn’t seem the motherly type, but who knew? 

Anne hadn’t answered any written messages, but maybe she hadn’t been using her padd at all. Kirk didn’t want to intrude, but he’d asked that Uhura check on her at lunch, just stop by and see if she answered the door. When Uhura had come back, she’d been smiling. Anne had opened the door to her, had spoken with her-- had even smiled at her. Kirk knew it had been the right thing to do. Uhura was the only other person Anne trusted right now.

Soon he would have to talk to Spock about her memories. Anne would have to be evaluated to see when she could get that seal broken down. But one day wasn’t enough time, even he knew that, and no matter how impatient he was to have her back, he had to think of what was best for her. He updated Hayes fully while he was at the conn, there being very little else to do that day, and asked her if she would let Anne alone for the next couple days to have some privacy, then make an appointment with her for evaluation. He said he would break the news first so that Anne knew it was coming.

Claudia agreed. In fact, she said that his strategy was what she preferred-- that Bones was worried about her but that it was manifesting as overprotectiveness, and Anne needed some independence right now. Jim wondered if she’d told Bones that, and decided that she probably had. She wasn’t one to restrain her opinions.

Sulu had asked how Anne was; Kirk knew it was partly because he was wondering about the little girl. Apparently he and Ben had been thinking about adopting another child anyway, and Sulu had fallen in love with Lilla, spending all his time down in the med bay, arguing with the doctors about how best to take care of a baby. Kirk wasn’t sure what Anne would think; he knew her memories of that time were bad. He said that once Anne had her memory back they could talk about it.

Not even on the way to Yorktown yet, and already his shore leave was filling up. Carol would be waiting to hear from him the moment they got in. Sulu and Ben wanted an evening, or a few. Ella wanted to get together for drinks. He still didn’t know whether Anne preferred to spend her nights out or in. He’d promised they would go dancing-- and dressing up in a suit and all that wasn’t his style, but if she still wanted it, he would do it. The way she looked at him sure didn't hurt his ego any. He had a feeling that dressing up would be even better. Worse. Whatever.

If everything went the way he wanted it to, he and Anne would spend their time in their apartment, wherever that would be, maybe having people over every once in a while or going out to see them, Anne cooking things and growing her garden and going out on the motorcycle with him, and being as happy and insatiable and contented as she had been before she’d said she would go back to Loche. Why bother going out if he had everything he wanted at home? When he’d been younger, he’d liked to go out on the town and find some willing, pretty thing, or two, or a few, and leave a trail of smoldering wreckage behind him in the wake of his partying. Shore leave was still like that sometimes. But with Anne, he didn’t need to go hunting unless they wanted to, and it was a lot easier to find places to throw someone down in your own apartment.

That was, assuming she still wanted to get that apartment. He couldn’t see why not, but you never knew. It was all up in the air until she had her memories back. Even then, it might take her a while to decide. He didn’t know, and wouldn’t until it happened. Still, it was a nice little daydream on a dull day.

He wasn’t sure what he would see when he got home that afternoon. He didn’t think Anne would have left, but he was surprised when he stepped into the suite and found the music blaring and all sorts of dishes set out on the dining room table. It was a song he’d heard before, a cover of a love song from the dawn of rock and roll. He thought he recognized it from the night that they’d found Loche’s base. She hadn’t been dancing then, though-- and suddenly he realized how she kept those fantastic legs and ass so toned and tight. It was halfway between ballet and something much more sexually suggestive, as if she’d learned the one and then layered the other on top of it to make it match the music better. She was so absorbed in it that she didn’t notice him, so he stood quietly as the door closed behind him, meaning to say something in just a moment.

The utility knife glinted in her hand. Kirk frowned as he saw it-- what was she doing? It wasn’t immediately apparent. It wasn’t a huge knife, just big enough to be useful, but if she wasn’t careful she could end up hurting herself-- definitely if she stepped wrong and dropped it or something. He had to make himself stay still when he saw it. It made the beautiful dance so much more sinister. Until he saw her take something from a bowl on the table and toss it into the air, watching it. Then he recognized the same look as Sulu in his fencing class-- she tracked its trajectory, aimed, and then speared it from the air.

It was impressive. Kirk couldn’t help himself-- he started to clap, keeping across the room from her. She could do whatever she liked, shut the music off, stop dancing, whatever, but he had to let her know he was there.

Anne’s eyes widened as she spun, her hands flying behind her back as if to hide the knife and the strawberry. “Music off,” she said, and suddenly it was silent in the room. She looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I--”

“It’s all right,” he said. He didn’t want to hear her apologizing for being beautiful. “I just got home.” Definitely didn’t stand and watch, definitely not. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

A hesitant smile crossed her lips. “I was. I am. I got bored and I wanted to make something, and dance, and... I just decided I would do both. Everyone does dumb things when they’re alone.”

He frowned in amusement. “I didn’t see anything dumb. I saw you dancing, and you looked beautiful. Did you ever dance professionally? It looked very… balletic.” He wasn’t going to mention the knife. She knew he had seen it.

“I did, until I was fourteen,” Anne said warily. “And then afterward in other places, street corners and such, until I could earn credits in other ways. I worked in kitchens and clubs while I was in university. It all ended up mixing. I didn’t used to like dancing, but I learned to love it after I wasn’t forced to do it anymore. It was a big part of my life.”

It was more than she’d ever said to him before about her childhood. “I’m glad you love it again. I couldn’t help enjoying the way it looked, and it would be sad if you hated something that looks so graceful.”

“Do you dance?” Anne asked, curious.

“I can, but nowhere near that well. I mostly just danced to find people to go home with,” he said, grinning.

Anne laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, the one that held the knife. It had red liquid on it, but she didn’t seem to be in pain. Probably just strawberry juice. When she realized that she’d lifted that hand, she smiled tentatively. “I got bored,” she said again. “I thought you might be hungry after work. It’s hard to make things without any heat but…” She stepped away from the table, as if making room for him to come and see. Immediately, he saw her eyes widen, and she tossed the knife over onto the table, as if to make sure he knew she wasn’t going to attack him.

“It’s all right, Anne. I’m not worried about you,” he said, approaching the table. “You saved me with a knife. I find it hard to believe you’d do that just so you could hurt me later.”

She twisted her hands together, red juice from the strawberry staining them. “I know, but… I can’t imagine what you saw. And I know some of what I’ve done. I don’t want you to think I… I enjoyed it. I cut vegetables and fruits with knives. I don’t hurt people.” She sounded confused, and a little lost.

“I know,” he said. “No one could know you and think you were willing. I know you better than that.”

Her hands stopped twisting. “Anyway I made you some food,” she said, her voice low, barely above a whisper.

Everything on the table was raw-- there was no heat to cook with, so she’d made do-- but it all looked beautiful and delicious. There was a green salad with tomatoes and white little cheeses and some sort of oil, and there was a sandwich with some very thinly sliced meat and cheese, and… “You’re going to have to tell me what all of this is,” he said, his mouth curving in a reluctant smile. The bowl of sliced strawberries was drowning in cream.

Taking a hesitant step toward him, Anne gestured to the salad. “That’s just a variation on a caprese salad. There’s no skill there, just cut tomatoes, add basil leaves and mozzarella bufala, and then olive oil, salt, balsamic--”

“You can’t say there’s no skill. I’d probably burn it somehow if I tried to do it,” he teased. Everything was cut and tossed and glistening like little jewels. “I recognize the strawberries and cream. What’s the sandwich?”

“It’s a prosciutto panini, except I couldn’t warm it up. It has provolone and arugula and parmesan, and more olive oil.” She smiled, as if laughing at herself. “It’s hard to cut that finely without the right kind of knife, but I had a lot of time. And it shouldn’t taste too much like synth. I learned some tricks about making food taste more real when I worked in the restaurants.”

“Where’s yours?” Kirk asked, raising an eyebrow at her. He would not ask how long this had taken. With one knife as her only tool? It might have taken her all day, and he wasn’t sure he could handle finding out she’d spent all day making him one sandwich without trying to kiss her.

“Oh, it’s just there,” she said, and gestured to a little plate off to the side. He could tell it had been hurriedly thrown together compared to what she’d made for him, the exacting care absent. “I spent enough time cooking that I’m not very hungry now. But I knew you would ask, and it’s rude just to watch someone eat.”

He sighed. “You’re killing me, Anne. I don’t think anyone’s ever done this for me before, and definitely not under these circumstances, and if you had your memories back I’d already be kissing you for this, and I can’t.” Kirk shook his head, pulling out a chair. This meal deserved to be eaten at the dining table.

“You can, if you want,” Anne said softly. “I… I’d like that.”

Kirk paused, looking over at her. He had to take a moment to study her to make sure of what he was seeing-- she was twisting her hands again, nervous again, but she was looking shyly at him, as if she wasn’t quite sure she should be doing this but wanted it anyway.

A kiss wouldn’t be so bad, would it? If she was inviting it, and so long as she wasn’t telling him to stop…

He gave her plenty of time to move away if she changed her mind, and was careful not to pull her hard against him the way he wanted to-- he slid his arms around her, letting her settle against him before bending his head, brushing her lips with his. All of that suppressed want exploded through them, barely held in check, the kiss getting deeper and deeper until he felt them both gasping for breath between clashes. She was hesitant at first, but by the time he pulled his lips from hers, she was leaning into him, standing on her toes, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her pupils were dilated, the misty grey darkened with lust, and he could feel his own pulse pounding. “We’d better back off,” Kirk said breathlessly. “We have done a lot of ending up on the floor in this room, and I don’t think it would be wise to move quite that fast.”

“But I do know you,” Anne said softly. “I just don’t remember it. And…”

“And once you do remember, we can move as fast as you like. I talked to Claudia, and she says she’ll evaluate you in two days. We can get used to each other again for two days without diving in.” Kirk ran his thumb along her cheekbone. “There’s no need to push it. Pushing might make you less able to handle Spock helping you break down the seal and make us wait longer.”

She sighed. “True. I can wait two days.” Letting her head drop to his chest, she released his shoulders. “Were we always this… hungry?”

He knew exactly what she meant. “Yeah, I’m afraid so,” he laughed. “We were pretty bad once you felt safe with me.” He felt a vague urge to tell her more about it, to give details, and realized that would just be taunting her into pushing her limits harder. Better to just get it all up front. “Look, whatever you really want is fine by me, but you have to really want it. Not just shy, nervous, scared want, but not scared, not shy, able to tell me what you want, or take it from me. I can't be the one who starts things. I don't want to be wrong and hurt you.”

Anne’s forehead rested on his chest. “Yeah. You’re right. My mind keeps trying to shortcut back to how you say things were. It feels so much more normal than this, and I don’t even really remember it.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “A couple days. Once they know you won’t slip back into that catatonia and Spock won’t accidentally hurt you more. I trust you, and that does carry a lot of weight, but not all of it.” He held her tighter for a moment, but still not so tightly that she couldn’t push away if she wanted. “I get it. But let’s start smaller. If you can trust me enough to sit near me, and sleep on me, and get in my space without worrying about what I’m going to do, then I think that’s far enough for today.”

“Maybe another kiss?” Anne asked softly.

“Maybe.” He smiled. “Probably. Maybe a few. If you look like you need them.”

“I do,” Anne said. “I really do. But maybe after lunch.” She stepped back, pulling away from him, and he let her go. Holding her would have frightened her.

“Sounds good to me. We can watch movies on the couch and kick each other at the good parts or something.” He finished pulling out his chair and seated himself. “Now let’s eat. I'm starving.”

It didn’t taste like synth, which seemed like a minor magical feat to him. When he asked how she did it, she launched into an explanation of the molecular tweaks, reprogramming the synthesizer, bioflavonoids and the difference between flavones and flavonols, and which went into what that was frankly a bit astounding. He’d actually stopped eating, staring at her, trying to understand her descriptions, which were a lot easier to follow than some of Spock’s. She was good with words, and patient. After about fifteen minutes, he had to call off the class. “You know as much about that as I do about ship battle tactics,” he said, shaking his head. “But I need to ask something-- how did you get into the synthesizer? You shouldn’t have access to that. And I think before you were programming things in by your second day on the ship.” It didn't worry him that she had access. There were safeguards in place. Even if there weren't, he still wouldn't have minded. Anne wasn't about to hurt anyone.

“Every program has a back door,” Anne said, amused. “You don’t think I had authorization for it at the restaurants, do you? I was fifteen. It was illegal. But the restaurant business traditionally has a casual relationship with the law, and a very, very tenuous grasp on concepts like “can’t.” Especially in France. They treat you well, but if you can’t get the job done, you’re out. You have to be able to learn very quickly.” She shook her head. “How did you think I got out of the isolation room anyway?”

“What does that have to do with-- nevermind.” Kirk shook his head. “I’m just glad you’re using your talents for my greater good. So you learned all that at the restaurants?”

“Most of it. The chemical compositions and changes, yes. The rest is… travelling. You’ve been on the Enterprise for your whole career, pretty much, yes?”

“Yeah.” Kirk took another bite of his sandwich, the flavors vivid and rich and bright in his mouth. It was almost a crime to be talking while eating something this good.

“I’ve been on so many different ships I’ve lost count. There are some really terrible synthesizers out there. After a while, you think the next time you have to eat Andorian cabbage soup, you might actually stop eating forever. So you either get into the system and change it, or stop travelling. Same thing with door locks. You learn really fast the first time you’re locked in somewhere that you don’t want to be.” She sighed. “That’s why Tarenn had me in a place with a mechanical lock. You need tools for those, not just hair pins and circuit knowledge.”

Kirk nodded. “Maybe you could show me some of that. I’ve been locked into a few places I would rather have avoided.”

Her eyes brightened at the idea of being useful, not just dead weight. “Sure, yes! If Mr. Scott can get someone to repair the door afterward. Or we can start with the one in sick bay that I shorted out already.”

“That’s probably best. The doctors want to check on you anyway.” He saw her irritation, and hurried to add, “Not a full checkup-- just a check-in, just saying hello and making sure you’re not feeling strange and nothing hurts or whatever. Claudia said she’d rein Bones in a bit. He gets overprotective of his patients, right up until he kicks them out for malingering.”

“Oh. Okay.” Anne nodded. “That seems reasonable.” She shook her head. “I didn’t tell you any of that before?” she asked, a little uncertain.

Kirk felt himself trying to grin. “We had other priorities. Not that we didn't talk, but it was really easy to get distracted.”

Anne blinked slowly at him, thinking this over. “I must really have enjoyed myself,” she said, frowning slightly.

“You said you did whenever I asked. You looked like you did.” He shrugged. “There was a lot more laughing than I’m used to. It was fun.”

Anne smiled shyly. “That sounds… really nice.”

“Are you hinting?” Kirk asked, pretending severity. “Because no hinting allowed, Ms. Hardesty. Say it or don’t.”

She backed off then, not frightened, but nervous and amused. “No, I was just asking. Saying.” He could tell she was thinking about it, though-- her eyes still held that inviting darkness, reflecting her restrained desires and her internal wavering. “Anyway, when do you want to look at the door locks?”

“Today, if you want. I had a relaxing day. No crises, no giant black cats or transporter accidents.” He looked at the meal he’d almost finished, wishing he’d had more even though he was full. “You didn’t relax, though, so if you--”

She surprised him by bursting out laughing. He watched, puzzled but amused, knowing she was laughing at him but not really knowing why. After a few moments, she said, “You’re acting like this is _hard_. It just takes patience and practice, Jim. It’s not rocket science.”

“Hey, I couldn’t do this, and I’m technically a rocket scientist,” he said, laughing with her. In hindsight, maybe it was sort of like asking him if retuning the ship’s phaser wavelengths was hard. Finicky, maybe, but mostly repetitious, and something that he’d done a thousand times.

“I can teach you. And I can go over the synth patterns and tweak the things I remember how to tweak. If you want.”

“Sure. Why not?” They had to do something to fill the time that would have been spent on other things.

“Eat your dessert,” she said, shaking her head and starting to clear up the empty dishes. “Strawberries are hard. I had to re-calculate the relationship between the red and the flavor to make sure I had it accurate to the strawberries I remember from home. Genetically they’re linked, you know--”

He listened while she explained the relationship, and came away with the idea that the strawberries had been the hardest part of the entire meal. They were some of the best, sweetest, ripest tasting strawberries he’d ever had, though, especially from a synthesizer. “So whenever I want strawberries I just have to punch them up and I get these, is that what you’re saying?” he asked once she was finished. At her nod, he shook his head. “I’m going to have to spend twice as much time in the gym,” he said dolefully. “At least they don’t even need sugar. I’d get fat.”

Anne laughed at him, pitiless. “I’m sure eventually we can think of a way to work them off,” she said, and there was that little grin again, that mysterious, modest grin that sometimes appeared when she flirted with him.

He could definitely imagine some pleasant ways to work off any excess. But that was in a few days, not now, so he finished his strawberries and cream, and helped her clear up. She snagged the second-last strawberry from his bowl, taking a bite while she brought the dishes to the synth to be dissolved, and he caught her on her way back, slipping an arm around her waist and coaxing her close. She didn’t hang back-- she finished her strawberry and looked up at him, a faint sheen of red juice on her bottom lip.

“Thank you so much,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. She tasted divine, her mouth soft and hungry and sweet with berries. That alone would have been arousing, but with the feel of her in his arms, and the little purring, satisfied noises she made, he was convinced that if he had let her situation slip from his mind, they would have ended up in bed again, then and there. Or the floor. Probably the floor.

As it was, they were both breathing hard, and he stepped back, letting her go, before she could move in for another kiss. “We’re going to the med bay,” he reminded her.

“Yes. Yes.” Anne shook her head and glanced down at herself. “I need to change. I’ve gotten strawberry juice on this one.” Three drops of blood red juice on the dress. 

He laughed. “I’ll wait out here,” he said.

The med bay was as quiet as the rest of the ship, Anne’s departure having deprived them of their only inpatient. Of course there were always accidents that needed tending, but not many, so the staff was holed up in their break room, playing poker for fantasy planets. That made it easier to wedge the isolation room door open and pop the panel without anyone asking what they were doing.

They were so absorbed in her lesson that he didn’t notice Claudia standing in the doorway until she cleared her throat. “I can see that things are going swimmingly, if you’re giving up your trade secrets to him,” she said, her perfect mouth quirking. “I was wondering how you got out.”

“Learning how things work can be very useful,” Anne said warily. “How are you, Doctor?”

“I’m fine. The wound didn’t even scar. I couldn’t believe you went for the hand, though. I’d have died if it was ruined.” Claudia flexed her hand in front of Anne’s eyes. “That made sense once I thought about it. Maximum damage. Subconsciously you knew my hands and my brain were most important to me, and you went for the one that was easiest to get to.”

Kirk hadn’t known that Claudia had been injured, much less that it had been Anne who injured her. There seemed to be no animosity; he decided to let well enough alone, and kept his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” Anne said, and she sounded genuinely upset. “I wasn’t myself. I could only think that you were trying to keep me from J-- the Captain.”

“You did good, Anne,” Dr. Hayes said. “You did exactly what you should if you had to defend him.” Kirk wasn’t sure that encouragement was the best response, exactly, but it was a hell of a lot better than making Anne feel guilty.

“Thanks,” Anne said, smiling crookedly. “You look tired, though. I didn’t hurt you that badly, did I?”

“Oh… no. The baby is keeping me up at night. Even with Leonard doing half of the work, she’s still a handful. She knows her mom isn’t around, and she’s nervous.” She didn’t treat the baby as a taboo subject. Kirk approved. If it was treated as taboo, it would become taboo. “How are you feeling about her being on the ship?”

“Fine. She needs to be away from the women. They’re not good for her. I hope she never goes back to them.” Anne moved her hairpin and got stung for her trouble, shaking her hand and sucking on her burnt finger. “None of this had anything to do with her. I’m glad she was all right. I felt so awful about Brynna. I still feel awful.”

“It’s all right, Anne. You did what you had to do. And they saved her, and now she’s got a chance at a good family.”

Anne looked quizzically at her. “You and… Dr. McCoy?”

Claudia shook her head, looking over at Jim. “It would only be thirdhand from me. Take this one for me, will you, Captain?”

Kirk nodded, taking the hairpin from Anne’s hand. “Handy little things. I should get Scotty to look into building something like that into the communicators.” When Anne nodded, he continued. “Do you remember Sulu and his husband Ben?”

Anne blinked a few times, but slowly shook her head. “I remember a kitchen. A beautiful knife. Talking about Paris.”

“That was Ben. You and him really hit it off when you met. Ben and Sulu were thinking about adopting a sibling for Demora, their daughter. Sulu’s really taken to Lilla, and he said he’d like to talk to you about her, if that was all right. He knows you don’t know the kid, but you have to admit it’s a weird situation, and I don’t think Sulu wants to cut off your friendship with Ben because of something that might or might not happen.”

Anne looked bemused, shaking her head. “I couldn’t possibly object to their plans. The kid deserves a good home. I’m just not sure what the point of talking about it would be before I can remember anything past the Sorte.”

Shrugging, Kirk said, “Well, it won’t do any harm to let Sulu know you’re okay with the idea so far. I’ll tell him.” 

Dr. Hayes looked them over, then nodded once. ”Good. Now, I should give you a little checkup.” At Anne’s look of alarm, she smiled. “No, just a little one. Just check your eyes and ears and make sure your reflexes are okay. No more than ten minutes.”

Kirk frowned. “I’m getting a lesson here,” he said. “Can it wait?”

“No. She can teach you from the exam bed. You need to learn to do it yourself anyway.” Claudia left the room to get her kit bag.

Anne warned him which wires were live and explained how not to bridge them, then hopped up on the table so Claudia could poke at her. With her instructions, Kirk was able to shut the door, then open it again, then accidentally locked them in. He had his communicator, so he wasn’t worried about being stuck in there, but he didn’t want to repeat the mistake, so he followed Anne’s instructions exactly. Nevertheless, it took some time to get the door open again, and he found it a bit less intuitive than he would have liked. Wire colors weren’t standardized between ship makes, so Anne couldn’t instruct him by color, only by which wire came from where. Once he had it, though, he let them out, feeling pretty good about being able to work the door on his first try at it; it wasn't easy. “I guess that’s okay,” he said as the women walked from the room. “I could have handled being trapped in there with you two for a couple days. I’m sure we’d find _some_ way to avoid boredom.” He let his grin imply the rest.

Doctor Hayes just rolled her eyes, but Anne laughed and blushed. Interesting. They’d never discussed inviting someone else, but judging from his own track record, she probably wouldn’t be opposed. Anne paused, then picked up her step. “Fair’s fair,” she said.

“What? How do you mean?” Kirk asked. This was very, very intriguing.

“Well, you did mention a certain little tomcat,” Anne said.

It went over Dr. Hayes’ head, as she didn’t know the tomcat reference, but she grumbled, obviously not happy that sex was already becoming so present even before Anne’s memories were back. Kirk glanced at her, and to his surprise saw a look of amused irritation that Claudia would never have worn before all of this. What had changed? He wasn’t about to ask.

The tomcat thing, though… Kirk found himself a little interested. Normally he didn’t hunt much on the ship, and not with men, but if Anne’s interest had been piqued enough that she’d mention Chekov even without really remembering him… “We’ll talk about this once we’re all on shore leave,” he said. “Your little tomcat is someone I have to see every day.” It wasn’t like it would be new territory, though… 

“Should you really be talking about this in front of me?” asked Dr. Hayes, pretending more irritation than she felt. “I don’t need to know the STI vectors on the ship until _after_ they happen.”

“Gross, doctor. You’d think we didn’t know how to prevent things like that.” Anne shook her head. “Way to take the fun out of it.”

“You shouldn’t be thinking about fun like that just yet anyway. You just got home, and you still don’t remember anything,” Claudia said severely.

“I’ll think about what I want when I want, Doctor. Get used to it.” Anne sniffed.

Claudia glanced back at him, far more amused than she would normally have been. “Jim, I should hire you as an assistant. With women, anyway. You must have some sort of pheromone that makes them comfortable. Look at all that sass.” She wasn’t unconcerned about the sex, Kirk realized-- she was just relieved that things seemed to be heading along the same track as before, and that Anne was so much happier on top of being responsive and seeming to have herself together.

He had to admit to himself that the relief was something he felt too, although it wasn’t the time to say so. He shrugged, grinning flirtatiously at Anne. “What can I say? I like sass. And walking behind people with great sass.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t say that. I didn’t hear it.” Anne shuddered. “I’m not making you any more sandwiches if they hit you like this.”

“It’s the strawberries. They went to my head.” He left the med bay slightly behind Anne, feeling particularly self-satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for how late this is! As an apology, I've posted a couple little shorts on my tumblr, [here](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/176731169436/walking-wounded-deleted-scene-12) and [here](https://winterverses.tumblr.com/post/176731170801/walking-wounded-ten-minutes). I'll try not to let this happen again!


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual content.

When Anne woke the next morning, it was in a position that felt very familiar. Pressed up against Jim, her cheek settled against his chest, the top of her head under his chin. She sighed, her skin prickling up in goosebumps, and pulled herself even closer. They’d kissed before bed. The one or two promised kisses had somehow turned into quite a few more. In fact, the only reason they'd stopped was because she hadn't quite mustered the nerve to go further and he had been clear that he wouldn't risk any resurgence of her fear. It all felt so familiar, though. She couldn’t believe how her body ached for him, how it felt like the touch of his skin was the only thing that could soothe her. Her lips felt tender. Her pulse pounded between her legs. Sleeping beside him hadn’t helped anything, and certainly wasn’t slowing anything down.  


She felt restless. She wondered whether she should wake him. Did they have enough time…?

But he would want to go slowly. He would want to be careful. If they were to start the day well, she would have to be a bit reckless, and he'd have to go along with it.

She could be reckless with him. He would keep her safe. Wouldn’t he? He’d said he would… and if he meant what he said, didn’t he want her just as much as she wanted him? She'd spent so long being battered by the opportunism of others that finding someone who resisted her felt… odd. A little frightening.

After a long moment of hesitation, Anne realized that no matter whether it was the satisfaction her body wanted or the proof her mind needed, both roads led to the same place. And what better way to get it? It wasn't like either of them were built for soul-searching.

He woke almost as soon as her hand slipped into his pants. He was hard against her fingertips. Her breathing was already rapid and light, wondering what he felt, just how much he wanted her and how much he held back. “Anne,” he said, uncertain. His hand caught her wrist.

“I want to,” she said. “Please. We don’t have much time. You’ll be late if you argue.”

His hand loosened, and he said softly, “I can’t say no to you like this.”

“I don’t want you to,” she said, stroking him. Something in her settled, that deep nervousness abated. Partly. “Help me. I don’t want you to be late. Kiss me.”

Maybe it was because it was morning and he was half asleep, but he let go of her wrist, his voice growling in a way that made her insides clench tight as if his cock was already in her. “God you’re amazing. And awful. I’m going to get you back for this, this isn't fair.”

“Later,” she said. “I want to get you off. I want you to be all sticky and sleepy and I want you to think of me all day. And I want you to fuck me when you get home. Hard. Just wherever, on whatever, just fuck me until we can’t think anymore.” Her hand moved as she spoke, stroking him, teasing him, his hips moving with her and his breath already coming in gasps. “I want you so much, Jim. I want your hands and your cock and your mouth--”

He grabbed her then, pressing his lips to hers and shutting off her stream of endearments. His mouth was desperate and fierce, his fingers hard, but he didn’t scare her at all, which was sort of miraculous. She writhed against him, her body throbbing, her nipples hard little points that felt like they would kill her if they ached any more. His hand came up, massaging one and then the other, and she moaned against his mouth.

“Oh god yes,” she breathed in between kisses. “Yes, please. I need you. I really do.”

He kissed her again, his teeth sinking into her bottom lip, and Anne moaned into his mouth, her body moving, her hand moving, her legs tangling with his and her toes curling. He was so hard in her hand, so full and throbbing. He felt like heat and velvet and steel. She slipped a hand inside her panties, gathering her juices, and made him slick. Soon she wouldn't have to do that. He’d just plunge into her. The thought made her gasp, her hips pressing against him.

“Oh my god, Anne,” he said. His voice was so rough that she could almost feel it rasping over her skin. “Yes. All of it. I swear I'm gonna spend all tonight and tomorrow trying to make you scream.”

Anne couldn’t even imagine. A whole day of fucking him, a whole day of him trying to overwhelm her with pleasure. She’d end up crippled, and she’d love every moment of it. No wonder they didn’t stick to conversations much after they’d started fucking. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to just sate herself with him, just to plunge in and drown herself in him, just to dive and never, ever come up for air.

And he felt the same. He had to. Without remembering how she knew, she could tell he was close, his breathing turning to gasps and his fingers digging into her. Good. Hands moving faster and more ardently, she soon felt him stiffen, felt his cock jerking, heard his groan and felt his heart almost skipping beats. Then her hand was sticky with his come, her lips bruised and bitten, his body pressed hard against her and her pulse thumping in her clit. He shuddered, trying to catch his breath, and Anne slowly let go of him.

He was still, catching his breath. And then he was suddenly moving, pulling her up in the bed, pulling the little shorts off, his mouth finding her slick cleft while he yanked her legs over his shoulders. “Oh my god, what are you doing, you’re going to be la-aaate--” Anne gasped.

And suddenly she didn’t care. Suddenly his mouth on her was the most heavenly sensation in the world, his tongue flicking, his lips pinching lightly, sucking, his teeth gently pressing against her without scraping or hurting. Anne felt her hips buck, her back arching, and shrieked softly. Then louder. His mouth moved like a dream, delicate one moment, sucking her into madness the next. His tongue slid into her, fucking her, devouring her, then slid back up to her clit.

It took almost no time at all. One moment she was still in control, still able to choose between things like digging her nails into his scalp and screaming her lungs out, and the next she was doing both as her orgasm pulled her under, leaving her stranded in a world where all she could breathe was pleasure. Where his mouth was the only thing keeping her alive.

In the end, she wasn’t sure she was still alive at all. Only his kisses brought her back, his mouth tasting like her, his body pressed up against her and his cock already hard again. She wanted to fuck him. She wanted him inside her so much-- and his communicator was going off.

He considered answering it for some time before he actually did so. “Kirk here,” he said, and his voice was rough and throaty, indecently satisfied. Anyone who heard that would know exactly what had been happening. How could it not be obvious?

There was a long pause before any response came. She couldn’t quite hear it. She wasn’t sure he did either. “Overslept. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Kirk out.”

He dropped it on the floor and kissed her again, his lips gentler this time. “Tonight,” he said. “If you really want all of that, we’ll get a start on it tonight.”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “That might be enough time for me to get scared. But I really, really want to try.”

“If you’re worried about it, I can just spend the entire night with those amazing legs of yours wrapped around my head. I’m pretty sure I don’t actually need to breathe.” He kissed her again as if to prove it, long and slow and sweet, and his fading cock flagged a bit, hardening again by the time their lips pulled apart. “I have to go shower. It would be bad for morale if I showed up looking like I got attacked,” he laughed.

“I know,” Anne murmured. “Please forgive me if I just laze in bed all day. Tell NYota I may not answer the door at lunch. I’ll try.”

Easing off her, he smiled. She’d bitten his bottom lip. Everyone would know. That was not exactly a pleasant feeling… but ignorable, definitely ignorable. “Go back to sleep, gorgeous,” he said. “We’re going to have a long night.”

“Oh…. yes, please,” Anne replied, nestling down into the sheets and watching him with heavy-lidded eyes.

He kissed her cheek before he left for the shower, and he kissed her again just before he left. “I just wanted to have the taste of you in my mouth again,” he said once he'd reluctantly pulled away.

Anne slipped away into dreams, pleasant ones, her body fulfilled and still aching for him, as if it knew there was so much more to come. She wondered if she would have bruises the next morning, and then decided she didn’t care. So long as he wanted her. So long as he wanted to keep her.


	55. Chapter 55

Lieutenant Uhura’s eyes widened when she saw him, and Kirk made absolutely no apologies. He knew his appearance was fine-- he’d checked it before he’d left his quarters. Well, maybe a bit… well, okay, it was no worse than once or twice before, when he’d just gotten off a shore leave. Maybe he looked tired. Well, not tired, really, but a sort of sleepy satisfaction that could probably have been mistaken for a hangover. And she’d bitten his lip, but it wasn’t _that_ bad. It just looked like he’d been… fucking. It looked like he’d just gotten fucked. Nothing really overt, but the signs were there for anyone who knew him well. **  
**

The bridge crew pretty much all knew him well.

Well, hell, it had happened to everyone at some point. Hadn’t it? Even Spock had come in once or twice looking like Uhura had taken a round out of him. Hadn’t he? Kirk decided he didn’t care. He grinned at Uhura, who shook her head in amusement.

Had he ever been this late before? He couldn’t remember.

“Mr. Sulu, report,” he said, coming over to the big chair. Sulu raised his eyebrows at Kirk, but said nothing. He didn’t even grin. Much. He gave his report, then formally turned the conn over to Kirk. “Wait just a moment, Mr. Sulu. Personal matter.”

“Would you like to talk it over in the conference room, Captain?” Sulu asked.

Surprised, Kirk shook his head. “Not unless you do.” Sulu frowned and nodded to him to continue. “I spoke to Anne a bit regarding Lilla. She said she’s not opposed to talking with you, and she was encouraging about the idea of you adopting Lilla, but that memory seal is preventing her from having much more of an opinion right now.” 

Sulu nodded again. “That’s good, at least. Thank you, Captain.” 

“Carry on, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk said, then sat back in the chair and started to run reports. He found himself reading them over and over, none of the figures penetrating. Instead, he sat and thought about how good it would be to come home to her, how much he wished his shift was already over, and how glad he was that he had the next day off.

Anne was awake, although just barely, when the door chime rang. Yanking on a dress, she wandered out of the bedroom and yawned, “Come in.”

Nyota paused inside the door, and then started to laugh. “Oh my god, you both look like the cat that ate the canary.” She came to sit down on the couch.

Anne rubbed her eyes sleepily. “Mmm. Are you hungry? Spend lunch with me.” Nyota hadn’t stayed the day before, but Anne felt so comfortable with her and so contented with the state of the universe today that she couldn’t be bothered too much by her lack of memories. She didn’t know why, but she knew Nyota was her friend. That was enough. 

“Sure,” Nyota said, still laughing. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

Anne punched up some of the things she’d programmed into the synthesizer the day before, just a simple pasta with pesto and a bowl of strawberries. Water to drink. Bringing it over to the coffee table, she curled up on the couch next to Nyota, facing her, and yawned again. “Try it. I fixed some of the flavors.”

Uhura picked up her plate. “You two are both just about floating. You must have had a really good morning.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Anne said dreamily. “And plans for a really good night.”

“Are your memories back?” Nyota asked, becoming a touch concerned. It was kind of sweet of her.

“I don’t need them to know I can trust him with that.” Anne sighed, picking up a strawberry and nibbling at it. “It’s okay. He’s worried that everything is happening too fast, but it’s not like the memories are gone. I just can’t get at them.”

“Hmm. I don’t want to be a killjoy, but you do remember that you’d already decided to break up, right?” Uhura asked.

“Yeah, I remember that. But that’s later.”

“Very rational of you,” Uhura said, and while it didn’t sound entirely happy, it was also at least a little teasing.

Sighing, Anne bit the rest of her strawberry in half and savored it, chewing slowly. “I don’t get the feeling it was this intense before. I don’t think we were this wrapped up in each other.” She rested her head against the back of the couch.

“You had the mission ahead of you. Now that it’s over…” Nyota laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing we have that shore leave coming up. I can’t see Jim being able to balance both you and the ship for long, not like this.”

“I hope not. I’d be insulted if I was easily balanced,” Anne laughed. The rest of the ship lingered in her mind for a moment, making her feel vaguely claustrophobic. Pushing it aside, she focused on what Nyota was saying.

“Yeah, you…” Nyota shook her head, sighed. “Okay, are we going to do the girl talk thing?”

Anne lifted her head, grinning. “Ohhh, do you have a thing for him?” she teased. “I’m not telling you what it was like. Not details, anyway. Not unless you have something to share too.”

Uhura pretended offense, but underneath it her eyes were bright and relieved. “Look, three days ago you were practically comatose, and now you’re… pretty much back from the dead. That would make anyone curious about what’s going on.”

“No way. You know exactly what you want to know, and it has nothing to do with that.” Anne sobered a bit. “But all right, I’ll tell you. I was so bad before because I was terrified of Loche and I knew he was on the ship. I wasn’t… I wasn’t myself. All I could think of was killing him. Getting him off the ship did a lot of the work.”

“And the Captain did the rest?” Nyota asked archly, not really seeming to want to claim her share of the credit, but not seeming to believe it was all Jim.

“You too, definitely,” Anne said, smiling at her. “Out of everyone, I was only absolutely certain that he wouldn’t hurt me, and that you wouldn’t hurt me. It really helped when you came to talk to me, even if I wasn’t myself. I still heard you, and I… I knew you hadn’t left me alone. I knew you’d been trying to save me.” Her grin turned sad, and she picked up another strawberry. “It’s hard to explain. I guess if you’ve ever had a mental breakdown, you might get it, but if you haven’t, I can’t really describe what it was like. But you helped, a lot. Knowing you were there and that you cared, that you’d come to visit me and talk to me even when I wasn’t talking back-- that helped so much.”

“You risked your life for me. And I figured out why you made me keep the baby too, so if I counted these things as something I owed you, I would have owed you again. But we don’t keep track that way.” She grinned. “It’s pointless with us.”

Anne smiled. A faint, pleasant remembrance tickled at the edges of her mind, one she couldn’t quite capture. “Did we talk about this before?” she asked.

“Yeah, we did,” Uhura said. “It’s all right. Spock will help you get it all back.” She paused. “Hmm. I don’t know, do you remember that Spock and I are together?”

“The Vulcan?” Anne asked, her interest piqued. “No, I didn’t remember.” She grinned wickedly. “So you _do_ have something to share. I’ll tell you details if you tell me.”

Laughing, Nyota shook her head. “He’d never put up with us swapping sex stories. Hell, neither of them would.”

“They’re not going to find out,” Anne said. “ _I_ wouldn’t say anything. Would you?” At Nyota’s hesitation, she snickered. “You would? _Why?_ ”

Nyota’s answer was exasperated exaggeration, a bit of self-parody in it. “Relationships are built on trust, you know. Spock would be justified in being upset if I talked behind--”

“He’s not a very good Vulcan if he’s getting upset with you and irritated with Jim and--”

“He’s only half-Vulcan anyway. His mom was human.”

Anne started to laugh. “Well, that does explain that. But come on. You can’t just never talk about it. You’d bust.”

Nyota’s laughter joined hers. “Yeah, he’s got a Vulcan view of those things, which makes it a bit weird in a relationship sense. But he loves me, and if I wanted to talk to someone about anything in our relationship, he’s pretty secure in knowing that I wouldn’t say anything hurtful or talk about things that were too personal.”

“I get that,” Anne said. “I was mostly teasing. Mostly. I’ve just got sex on the brain right now.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Nyota laughed, her eyes taking in Anne’s dreamy demeanor, her too-pink lips and her wild hair. “Anyway, no, I’m not going to share details.”

Anne’s eyebrow rose. “Details. I know how not to share details.” She grinned. “Like, telling you exactly who did what and when would be details, but saying that goddamn he’s good with his mouth is not a detail.”

Nyota looked just the tiniest bit curious under her laughter. “Okay, okay. Maybe that’s acceptable.”

“Mmm. I’m not saying anything else until you do.”

“Oh, fine,” Nyota said, her humor mingling with exasperation. She wasn’t too put out, though; Anne knew the difference between banter and seriousness, and none of this was serious. “Spock’s no amateur when it comes to that either.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want, but… how’s the anatomy? I didn’t think Vulcans and humans could have sex quite-- well, I mean, you know what I mean. Just rubbing sensitive bits on sensitive bits isn’t hard, but I know Vulcans and humans can’t quite get down the same way.” Anne paused, suddenly confused. “That’s weird. How is he half human?”

“Medical intervention,” Nyota said. “He’s the first. I guess that sort of makes him a new race. Still, his anatomy is pretty much like human anatomy. Mostly. We enjoy ourselves.” She grinned, a tiny, secretive grin. “A lot.”

“Oooh, now you’ve got me curious,” Anne teased. She couldn’t help but feel like Nyota didn’t often get the opportunity for what they’d called ‘girl talk’. It was one thing to talk about sex with a lover, male or female, and it was completely another to talk about it with a friend. The awareness of the ship closed in for a moment, all those people crowding the hallways and rooms of the Enterprise. Anne brushed it away as best she could.

Raising her eyebrows, Nyota laughed. “Come on, Vulcans are touch telepaths. And you know Spock got that part of the Vulcan genetics.”

“Oh my god,” Anne said, sitting up straight. “Oh my _god_ , what’s that like? I was always too nervous to have sex with a Betazoid and I never got the chance with a Vulcan.”

“I’m not giving you that many details,” Nyota said. “Well, not right now, anyway. Maybe when you have your memory back and I know Spock’s not going to immediately see it in a mind meld.”

“Oh come on, he won’t care, will he? You’re so not fair!” Anne knew when she was being teased.

“Hey, you started it when you started not giving details.” Nyota paused. “You were a little bit right though, about me being curious. I guess you don’t remember-- Captain Kirk and I had a bit of a run-in when we first met. He tried to talk me up at a bar.” Nyota laughed. “He was incredibly drunk. And then he got in a fight and grabbed my chest in the middle of it. He says it was an accident. What an asshole.”

“Oh, no way. That was not an accident.” Anne shook her head. “How long ago was this? It doesn’t sound like something he’d do now.”

“God, nearly ten years.” Nyota shrugged. “I probably wouldn’t have dated him, not even if Spock and I weren’t together because it would just be a personality clash from hell, but… you can’t blame me for wondering. He does get around, and you sure seem to be having fun.”

Anne sighed and leaned against the back of the couch again. “Oh yes. I mean… there’s a lot I don’t remember, but this morning was… really, really good. And even if I don’t remember most of before, my body is convinced that he’s goddamn perfect. Considering the circumstances, I can say that’s a pretty rousing endorsement of his abilities.”

Nyota shook her head. “This has to be so weird for you.”

“Yeah.” Anne sighed. “Let’s not get too serious, though. I’d rather just look forward to tonight, and tomorrow.”

Smiling sympathetically, Nyota set her plate down, having finished eating while they’d been talking. “Yeah, I get that. Well, let me see if I can do you a favor. I’m not going to say what just yet, but you’ll know when he gets home today, if it happens.”

“So mysterious,” Anne teased. “Fine. I can live with that. I was just going to go back to bed anyway, it’s not like I’m going to be hanging around wondering about it.”

“Good.” Nyota stood up. “I’d better get back to the bridge. I’ll see you in a couple days, okay?”

Anne cocked her head, puzzled. “You can come by whenever.”

Laughing, Nyota shook her head. “I’m pretty sure we’ve interrupted you before, and this time we don’t even have the mission as a reason. If I come by, I’ll message you ahead of time.” At Anne’s blank look, she explained, “On the padd.”

Anne laughed ruefully. “Oh. I can’t get into my profile. I don’t remember my access codes.”

Nyota’s grin widened. “We should have thought of that. I’ll remind him to get you back in, and message both of you if I want to come see you.” She held out her hands, and Anne took them, standing up from the couch. A quick, friendly, comforting hug, and then Nyota left, grinning over her shoulder.

Anne sighed happily and took the strawberries into the bedroom, crawling back into bed and curling up, smelling Jim’s skin, the scent of sex, the strawberries… it was pretty damn perfect. It would be even more perfect when he got home. For a moment, the claustrophobic feeling tried to gnaw at the edges of her mind, but Anne pushed it away, resolutely ignoring it. Jim was coming home in a few hours. It would be perfect.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual content.

Kirk had managed to get his mind back on work by the time Spock came to relieve him. Mostly. Uhura had come back from her lunch grinning like the Mona Lisa, immediately sent off a message to him about getting Anne’s access codes for her profile, and was then utterly, completely professional for the rest of the day. He couldn’t help but be deeply suspicious of her… for about thirty seconds. Then he’d decided it didn’t matter. Anne had never had any complaints. **  
**

But for the most part of the day, he’d been good, his mind had been on the job and not on what awaited him at home.

Mostly.

Spock came in a bit early, and came directly to him instead of going to his station. “Captain, I would like to speak to you about the evaluation you and Dr. Hayes have planned,” he said, as bland and expressionless as ever. Even that was enough to set off Kirk’s suspicions-- he wasn’t sure what it was, but after so many years with Spock as his first officer, he knew when Spock was up to something. 

He decided to let this one play out. Spock was too good a friend to get up to too much mischief. “What’s the issue, Spock?” he asked.

“It has come to my attention that the evaluation is scheduled for a day when you are to be on the bridge. This is not an optimal situation, as I believe that Ms. Hardesty would prefer that you be present when the memory seal is broken. In fact, I strongly recommend that you be there, as there may be unpredictable emotional effects and you may be necessary to--”

“Hang on a moment, Spock, I thought it was just an evaluation,” Kirk said. “That’s a bit faster than we’d planned.”

“There is no point in delaying. If it is possible to break the seal then and there, I will do so. But as I was saying, it may be necessary to have both you and Lieutenant Uhura present, for reasons that are obvious to us. However, you are both scheduled to be on the bridge at that time, and while Lieutenant Uhura can return to her duties, I strongly recommend that you do not, as Ms. Hardesty will need supervision in any case. Therefore, I recommend that you take both that day and the subsequent day away from your duties; we will split the difference between myself, Mr. Sulu, Mr. Chekov, and Lieutenant Uhura.”

“Wait, what? Okay, take the day off, sure, but Uhura’s not command trained yet.” Something about this was all sorts of off.

“I had assumed that you would be moving forward with her training immediately, Captain. Did I assume wrongly?” Spock seemed extra bland.

“No, of course not, it’s just that I hadn’t even filed my intent yet or started things moving for it. Let me just get that set up here--”

“As long as we have your permission, Captain, I can take care of that. I will see you the day after tomorrow.”

Now Spock was just rushing him… but Kirk wasn’t about to leave that quickly. “It’s all right, Spock. I’ll set it up. And I can move my day off so that I’m present for the evaluation.” It would mean he was on duty tomorrow, but Anne would understand. Probably.

“That will not be necessary, Captain. If you feel you must, you are welcome to file the necessary changes to Lieutenant Uhura’s status when you have a free moment sometime tonight, but I assure you I am capable of handling it.” Spock looked faintly offended.

Kirk knew he was being given the runaround, but he really didn’t feel like fighting it anymore. “All right. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, then.” He glanced at the clock. Half an hour early. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d left a little early. And Anne would be happy to see him. “You’re in charge, Mr. Spock.”

When he walked in the door to his quarters, he saw Anne draped over the arm of the couch, just out of the shower. Her hair was up in a towel and another was wrapped around her, the padd she now had access to already in her hands. “Jim,” she said, surprised, smiling. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

“Spock relieved me early.” It was only then that he realized just how much Spock had snuck by him. “And apparently my day off just got extended by at least one day. Maybe two. I think he said two.” Kirk frowned. “I really shouldn’t leave the bridge that long--”

“Oh no you don’t,” Anne said playfully, but he could hear the seriousness underneath it. “You can’t tell me you have too much time off now. Especially when we’re working on my memory issue.”

“The day after tomorrow, instead of an evaluation, if at all possible,” Kirk said. He shook his head, laughing ruefully. “Spock must really have taken to you. He basically just told me to take a hike, except he hid it under talking about command training for Uhura.”

Anne grinned. “Nyota said she would do me a favor, but she didn’t tell me what it was.”

“I should have known the two of them were in on it together,” Kirk laughed. He couldn’t be upset about it, even if they’d managed him into taking days off instead of just telling him. He would have refused if they’d asked him directly, just out of reflexive need to be in command of his ship. If Anne had asked, he’d have felt guilty about it no matter which way he’d answered. This, however, was completely guilt-free, all the loose ends already taken care of. Trust his friends to make sure he had to enjoy himself. “I’ll double check later, but I guess we have three days, aside from the evaluation. How are you feeling?”

Anne smiled tentatively, shaking her head. “Not as brave as I was this morning, but… not bad. I wasn’t expecting you.”

He’d known they’d have to start off far more gently than they had that morning; in fact, he’d spent part of the day trying not to wonder whether she’d remembered waking up frustrated in the med bay or whether her desire then had just embedded itself in her mind enough for her to recreate it in friendlier circumstances. “What do you want right now?” he asked.

Her smile faded a bit, her eyelids lowering, and he found himself catching his breath. The way she was looking at him was something far more akin to a tiger’s hunger than the nervous, shy Anne she’d been the day before. “No promises,” she said, “but right now I think the closer you get to me, the more fun we’re going to have.”

Kirk wondered if she knew how that look affected him, and decided that yes, she probably did, if not specifically from him, then from others. “Play it by ear, then,” he said, taking a step towards the couch. “Stop if you say so or if you look uncomfortable.”

“Don’t overthink it, Jim,” she said softly. “You’ll give me time to overthink it, and that’s when I scare myself. That’s why it was easier when I’d just woken up.”

“Just making sure you know I’m still following my rules,” he said, coming to sit beside her. There were still little beads of water on her skin.

“I know. I trust you.” She pulled the towel out of her hair and dropped it on the floor. “Trust _me_. I’ll stop you if I’m worried.”

“All right,” he said. It was a bit of a relief. _If_ he could trust her. He wasn’t sure of it, yet, but she seemed certain, and it would have been wrong not to give her some credit for knowing her own mind. He was just concerned about the strange limbo she was stuck in, halfway between remembering him and not, with Loche fresh in her mind.

But then, if she was right, overthinking it would only give her the chance to remember that and apply it where it didn’t belong. He lifted his hand and lightly stroked her wet hair away from her face. Her lips parted, pupils flaring wider, and once again he saw that soft darkness in her that had so enticed him from the moment he’d first seen it. “Anne Madeline Hardesty, you’re a bit addictive, did you know that?” he teased, letting his fingertips stray down to her chin, tipping it up.

“I can definitely say the same for you,” she murmured, her gaze skimming over him. One of her hands came up, her fingertips lightly touching his chest as if anticipating the need to steady herself on him. “I’ve been lying in bed thinking about you all day.”

“Do tell,” Kirk said, deciding a change in trajectory was warranted. There was a water droplet running down the side of her neck; he lowered his mouth, his tongue flicking out to lick it away.

Anne’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh, that’s lovely,” she murmured. Tilting her head, she moved to give him as much access as possible to her neck, shoulder, collarbone, all of them sprinkled with little droplets of water. Kirk smiled and moved on, kissing away the next one. “Then again, I was thinking about all the things I’d like to do to you. And for you. And some of it is just fantasy, obviously, because we don’t have a garden or rain and we don’t have anywhere that would make sense for me to wear nothing but an apron…”

He laughed quietly, his lips brushing away the next tiny water droplet, keeping his mouth next to her skin as he spoke so that the feathery touches would set her shivering. He so enjoyed that. “I wasn’t going to say anything because you would have remembered soon, but we had sort of planned to get an apartment in Yorktown…”

“Ohh,” she said, that delightful little shiver running through her as he finished speaking. “We’re so smart. Then I _can_ do things like wear nothing but an apron while I make us strawberries and whipped cream. You know. For dessert. Definitely for eating, not for playing with.”

“Of course not,” he agreed. “Adults don’t play with food. It’s undignified. And we’re definitely dignified adults.” He licked away another droplet of water, and then lightly bit the skin beneath.

“Yes. And they don’t do things like fuck on the balcony when the weather system lets a rainstorm through.” Her voice was getting rougher, just slightly, her pulse speeding up as his lips moved down her neck.

“I can’t think why anyone would want to do anything like that. Sounds incredibly irresponsible. You could catch a cold doing that.” Her skin smelled of her perfumed soap, but it didn’t taste of anything but the clean, sweet water left on it. And her, of course, but that was indefinable. He couldn’t describe it to himself beyond just ‘Anne’ even when he gave himself time to contemplate it, sucking lightly at the side of her neck. The little noise she made was just a bonus. Same with the shiver. He pulled away, letting his lips brush her skin again, wondering smugly how long she would take his teasing before she started getting demanding. Sometimes she could hold out, sometimes she couldn’t.

“And I would definitely not decide to spend all day in bed,” she said, a little tremble in her voice, her breath just a bit uneven. “That’s unproductive at best.”

“Too true,” he agreed. “What would we even do? We’d get bored.” He let his teeth graze the elegant curve where her neck met her shoulder.

“And I have certainly never, ever had sex with someone in the back of a club after spending forever teasing each other on the dance floor. Never. That would be so rude.” The tremble in her voice was turning into a soft growl, her hand still on his chest and her fingers starting to dig in, hooking at the fabric of his overtunic.

“Very rude. And dangerous. What if you got caught?” Kirk let his lips wander further down, skimming away the droplets on her shoulder and moving down to her collarbone as she leaned back, letting her head fall back against the couch. Her pulse was rapid and light, flickering under his lips as he traced the line of her throat.

“And, of course, sex should be a private thing, shared between two people only,” she said, humor joining the little growl in her voice. “Any more than that is undignified and greedy.”

“Yes, definitely,” he murmured, pleased. So she was interested. “I have a small gender preference in the people I’m definitely not inviting into our bed. What about you?”

“I’m willing to bend on that if you are,” Anne said. It was so fascinating to hear her voice changing as she became more aroused, getting huskier and more inviting. It made her words sound far more suggestive than they actually were. “It sort of becomes immaterial after you’ve slept with enough different anatomies. Although I must say, I do prefer human men. There’s just something so… satisfying about making them come undone.” The towel was starting to slide further open with every breath she took.

Kirk had to admit to himself that what she’d said was a rather large part of why he enjoyed women so much. It wasn’t the actions and presentations that they meant to be enticing, not anymore-- it was the moments when they lost control of their facade, when he could see them emotionally naked and reacting on instinct. Like the way Anne tensed through an orgasm and collapsed after, the little smile on her lips and the way her shaking hands would always seem to be pulling him in for a kiss. He let his lips linger between her collarbones, his tongue flicking into the hollow there, and then lifted his head, sliding an arm around her and moving her so that her back lay against the rolled arm of the couch.

She didn’t tense or struggle. She stilled, her breath catching, and then relaxed, letting her head loll back. The towel was dangerously close to slipping right off. Suddenly she smiled. “Let’s get some music on in here,” she said.

Kirk laughed as he bent his head, letting his lips trace the skin of her chest. Her skin was so translucent that he could see the faint blue tracery of veins beneath it; she seemed so delicate, silver and white and tiny and breakable, and it was so much at odds with what he knew of her. She was such a contradiction. “You pick,” he said. “I’m busy.” He teased the towel away as if he were unwrapping delicate glass from tissue paper, just one side of it, exposing one of those pretty breasts. He was used to the red scars around it by now, and as she picked up the padd to make a music selection, he ran his lips along the scar, as if by kissing it he could make it so that it had never been painful.

A song he didn't recognize came on, something about oceans and surrender, clearly sexual in nature. Definitely suited the moment. Anne purred and dropped the padd on the floor, her hands coming up to stroke his hair. “Is this a hint?” Kirk asked, breathing his amusement onto her skin, then licking delicately at the pale pink point of her nipple.

She gasped softly. “Maybe a little,” she laughed. “I did just come out of the water.” She shifted, sliding a leg behind him, the other resting across his lap. After another lick at her nipple, she sighed, her skin prickling up in a wave of goosebumps. Her hand stroked down the side of his face, smoothing his eyebrows, touching his lips gently, her heavy-lidded eyes fixed to him, as if she was fascinated by what she saw. Kirk kissed the heel of her hand as it passed by, then took her nipple into his mouth, sucking just hard enough to elicit a little whimper of pleasure from her. Anne’s legs tightened around him. “You really know how to make a girl feel special. No wonder you’ve had so many lovers.”

He flicked her nipple with his tongue, then let it fall from his mouth, his lips brushing it as he spoke. “You can't put it all down to me when you do the same thing, Anne Madeline. It's a pretty powerful combination.”

“I’m so lucky,” she sighed.

“Yep,” he said, grinning when she laughed. “We both are.”

“Yes,” Anne murmured. Her fingers slipped down to his shirt, tugging it up. “I want to feel your skin on me,” she whispered.

Kirk made a soft noise of assent and drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Anne cried out softly, her hips moving, and her fingers urgently pulled at his shirt. He let her tug it up, letting her nipple slip from his mouth just long enough for her to pull it off and fling it… elsewhere. That could be inconvenient, but at the moment, he didn’t care. He settled in against her, pressing his skin delightfully against hers wherever he could, her legs wrapped around him and her hips moving gently in time with his gentle tugs at her nipple. 

By the time he had decided to move on, she was making soft, hungry noises, her fingers in his hair becoming more forceful, more directing. “You are so good with your mouth,” she said, her voice at once breathy and growling, “Didn’t you say something about not needing to breathe?”

He laughed quietly. “No hinting, Anne,” he said, more to tease her than anything else.

Anne paused, then sighed, her head falling back on the couch and then lifting again to look at him. She grabbed his chin, yanking it up so that she could look him in the eye. The depth of want he saw there stole his breath, made him long to take her in his arms and just… fuck her, hard, until that want was replaced by sweet satisfaction. “James Tiberius Kirk, I want you to lick me. I want you to fuck me with your tongue. I want you to make me scream with just your mouth while I try not to strangle you by wrapping my legs around your head.” Her hips pressed up against him, and he could already feel that she was getting slick. “Is that explicit enough and unafraid enough for you?” Her voice was throaty and rough, that growl growing stronger as her frustration and want began to mount.

“I think I can handle that,” he said, his own voice holding more than a little frustration. He made her wait for it, though, kissing down her rib cage and belly, licking along each and every scar, letting them lead him down to the sparse fluff of silver curls already matting with her juices. He let his lips and breath drift along the lines of her body, the small curve of her belly, the crease of her thigh, until he felt her stiffen, her hand sliding into his hair and actually _shoving_ his head down so that his mouth met that lovely little cleft between her legs.

So aggressive, and so hungry. So beautiful. And he loved it when she knew what she wanted and took it. His tongue split her labia and drew along her cleft, her growl turning to a gasp when he dragged it over her clit. “Oh god yes,” she breathed, her hips moving. “Mmm, Jim…”

He loved the way she said his name. His tongue found her entrance and teased, her hips starting to move in rhythm with him, his tongue sinking into her, much to her vocal delight. Her hands moved restlessly, sometimes gripping the couch as if she might tear into it, sometimes shakily running through his hair, coaxing him on, urging him to please her, to sate her hunger.

It wasn’t enough for her. Even as her voice grew breathier and more pleading, even while her words fell away and became moans and growls and little sobs, even when her hips pressed her against him and her legs tensed, her toes curling hard, it still wasn’t enough. Until suddenly it was, his fingers moving inside her and his tongue grinding over her clit, her hips thrusting back at him and her fingers digging into the couch. She locked up, every muscle tensing, her breath ceasing, eyes shut tight-- and then a gasp, and a cry, and her body was convulsing with her orgasm, her hips rolling and her legs pulling him tight to her. Kirk watched with almost as much fascination as desire, her uncontrolled reactions more far arousing than any alluring look or calculated sexual invitation.

When she finally stilled, she had a dreamy smile on her face, and her hand came up to stroke his hair. Gently, he slid his fingers from her, lifted his lips. Her satisfied little moan made him want to yank her down and plunge into her-- but he stayed still, waiting. It was too early for that. She didn’t even remember it from before.

“Come here and kiss me,” she murmured, her cheeks still pink with the flush of orgasm. One of her legs slipped from his shoulder, and her fingers drifted to his chin, as if to lead him up to her.

He followed so willingly. He knew he would enjoy himself in spite of their limits. Moving over her, Kirk let his body fit to hers before dipping his head for a kiss. That perfect body of hers was like an incitement to licentious behavior, a call to urges that he could not ignore. As their lips met, he felt his hips grind just a little, causing her to moan into the kiss. Her legs wrapped around his hips and her hand slid between them, flicking open his pants with practiced ease and sliding inside to fondle him with such luxurious enjoyment that he found it hard to catch his breath.

The kiss didn’t help anything; she made a soft noise when her lips parted, as if tasting herself on him was unutterably delicious, the best possible kind of treat. The clash of lips and tongue and the firm stroking of her hand almost distracted him from the way she eased his pants down so that he could kick them off, leaving them skin on skin, the way they both preferred.

And then suddenly she was moving beneath him, bowing her back so that his cock was pressing at her, on the point of sliding in. Breaking the kiss, Kirk heard his own strangled voice. “Anne--”

“Do it,” she said, one of her hands sliding to his ass, her nails digging in. He could barely think with all this. “Fuck me. I want you.” Her hips moved, the head of his cock starting to sink in, pressing at her tight little opening. “Please,” she said, breathless and harsh. “Isn’t that direct enough for you? Fuck me, as hard as you want, any way you want. I don’t want you to have to hold back. I want all of you.”

Still, he hesitated, his body pulling in one direction and his good sense pulling in another. How could he? She barely even knew him. She was still getting over Loche and while this last time hadn’t been as bad as it could have been, she was still fragile, still recovering.

Those misty eyes of hers began to lose the darkness of ardor, uncertainty filtering in. “Don’t you want me?” she asked softly, her voice small.

There was no way to answer that with words. His hips moved, not fast but hard, sinking him into her, impaling her, and she gasped, her legs tightening around his hips. “Don’t you ever, ever doubt that,” he said, his voice low and rough to his own ears, his hips pinning hers to the couch. “If you can think that for even a second, I can see I need to spend some time proving just how much I want you.”

Her answer was a moan and a delightful roll of her hips, which he answered in kind. God, she was just so tight and so silky wet, her body seeming to fit him like it was made for him. The height difference meant it would be too hard to kiss her in this position, but instead he got to watch her eyelids flutter, her unguarded expressions, the way her lips parted after a particularly hard thrust. Soon past the point of words, only her eyes could plead with him for more, which he gladly gave. She responded like a dream, so willing, so hungry for more of him that he found himself moving faster, harder than he meant to, her little cries of pleasure spurring him on. No matter how rough he found himself becoming, she urged him on with her hips, her hands, her nails sinking into his shoulders.

All of that built-up tension, all of that suppressed want poured out of him, the intensity of it clearing his mind of everything but the need to fuck her, the need to have her, to make her absolutely lose herself in it the way he had. In that moment he wanted her to be his, just his-- and she responded so eagerly, so passionately, that he couldn’t help but believe she wanted it too. 

It couldn’t last forever. That was his only regret. When she began to tense, her color heightening, he knew it was time to let go completely, to let the sweet, silky perfection of her body and the cries that kept spiraling higher pull him over the edge with her. His hips slammed harder against hers, and when she stilled, her body clamping down on him as her orgasm hit, he let it sweep him away as well. The rush of pleasure that flooded through him was so intense, every nerve screaming in ecstasy, that he thought his heart might actually stop.

And Anne… as he came back down from it, he saw her chest hitching, a tear creeping out from under her lashes, rolling down to land in her still-wet hair. She was smiling, though. “Are you all right?” Kirk asked, when he could catch his breath.

She gave him a watery chuckle, another tear spilling over. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’m fine. It’s just… sometimes it hits like this.” Her eyes opened, and despite the tears, she looked utterly satisfied. “Not very damn often, no. Oh, I feel so raw right now.” He started to ask, and she clarified. “Emotionally. Maybe a little physically.” She stroked a hand down his back, and then pushed herself up to kiss his chest. She laughed again, her breath still hitching as if she were about to start really crying. “Could you just hold me for a bit?” she asked shyly, more tears escaping.

God, she was killing him. So aggressive, and so vulnerable, and just so damn perfect… Kirk slowly pulled out of her, enjoying her little whimper as he did, then let her shift so that they could lie on their sides, her body gathered up in his arms, pressed to his chest. She was shaking. Well, so was he. Kirk kissed the top of her head and let her just stay there until she started to relax, the tears and the hitching breath eventually fading into stillness and warmth.

By the time their breathing had evened out, Kirk had realized, much to his amusement, that she might have done some damage. His shoulders felt sore, and he could swear he felt some bleeding. It would be the first time she’d ever broken skin. He reached up, gingerly touching the spot, and his fingers did indeed come away bloody. “I think we might need to clip your claws, tiger,” he joked, holding up his hand so she could see.

“Oh no,” Anne said, starting to push herself away, her eyes wide with worry.

He draped his arm back over her, laughing softly. “It’s fine, Anne. Just some scratches.” After a moment, he added, “It’s not like I’m going to mind a little souvenir from tonight. We’re pretty fantastic together.”

“True,” she said, settling back down. “I knew we would be. If we weren’t, I wouldn’t have been…”

“Hmm?”

She pressed her cheek against his chest. “When I woke up in the runabout, I was happy at first and I didn’t know why, and then it just… faded. Now I know it was because you were there, and then you left.” She laughed, and while it wasn’t happy, it wasn’t quite bitter either. “I can’t imagine being happy in those circumstances unless we were goddamn amazing together, and not just in bed.”

“You have a definite point there,” he sighed, pulling her tight to him. “Still… we really should have waited until you had your memories back.”

Anne laughed again, and this time it was definitely not bitter, or even bittersweet. “Are you kidding? How many people can say they had their first times with the same person twice?”

Kirk opened his mouth to reply, and then stopped, thinking about it. She was right-- from her point of view, everything they’d done had been the first time, and so would the other first times, when she remembered them. “Huh,” he said. “That better not have been why you--”

“Oh, shut up. As if you didn’t know why.” Anne snuggled closer to him, kissing his chest. “You just want to hear it, so-- fine. Because you are just that sexy, James Tiberius. You can get me going just walking across a room, let alone doing things like kissing me. I didn’t stand a chance with you. There was no way I could wait.”

He could definitely identify with that statement. “Well, then, Anne Madeline, I have to admit the feeling is mutual. And I would suggest that we walk our incomparably sexy selves over to the food synth to get something to eat, because right now I could probably eat a whole bucket of gagh.”

“Oh, ugh. That stuff tastes terrible,” Anne said, shuddering.

“Yeah, you told me about your run-in with it. And you told me about the Klingon.”

“I did?” she asked, surprised. “What did I tell you?”

Kirk calculated for a moment, and then had to suppress his grin. “Everything,” he said meaningfully. Maybe if she thought she’d already told him, she’d drop more information on it.

“I did not!” Anne said, laughing. “I would never--”

“Trust me, you told me _everything_ ,” he said. Damn, another opportunity slipping away.

“No way. Never. You’re trying to trick me.” Despite her conclusion, she kept laughing.

He decided to try another tack. “Okay, fine, but you were going to. You even promised me that when you got back, you would tell me about the Klingon.”

“Oh my god, why do I live with you?” Anne asked, her words dissolving into giggles. “I can’t even go home to get away from this shit.”

“That’s right, you’re stuck with me,” he said, laughing. He knew she didn’t really mind, and neither did he. What a weird state of affairs.

...and a comfortable, happy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, I'm having some scheduling difficulties. I hope to have it cleared up soon.


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mild sexual content.

Delerium. The whole rest of the night, the whole next day. There were bruises, yes, and after a while their sore muscles-- and other things-- meant they had to start being gentle with each other. Jim earned another set of scratches, this one on his ass, and joked again about clipping her claws. Anne just felt smug about it, the way he’d looked when she’d begged off another round and he’d decided to soothe her tender bits with a lengthy and delicate application of his mouth. **  
**

She couldn’t get enough of him. He was just so goddamn perfect.

Even in the morning before her evaluation, it was still hard for Anne to keep her hands off him Too hard. They ended up in the shower, the water pouring down over them while she clung to him, her legs wrapped around his waist and her back pressed against the wall. His hands squeezed her ass, supporting her while he fucked her, their kisses as languid and slow as the movement of their hips. By the end of it, she was drained and satisfied and smug, her knees shaky and her body warm and slow and feeling like perfection. It was hard to finish washing, and hard to put on clothes, knowing that he was right there and craved her as much as she craved him.

Anne did it anyway, concentrating on her satisfaction and warmth, shoving the thought of the evaluation as far away as she could. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have her memories back-- she was fairly certain they would be mostly good, for a change. But she didn’t know Spock. Having a stranger in her head felt like it would be a violation even if she’d been told she’d done it before. There were things in there that she didn't want touched, stretching all the way back to childhood. She didn’t remember the meld, didn’t remember what it felt like or how she’d gotten used to it, didn’t remember how she had come to terms with it or found it safe enough to try.

So she didn’t think about it. She thought about Jim, her body pressed against him, the shower, the way he’d groaned, his hands on her, and only let her thoughts stray ahead as far as getting out into the hallway without starting up again.

They managed to leave the room only a little late, due to a kiss that had lasted just a bit too long and hands that had gotten a little too wandery. Anne concentrated on just walking, pushing aside the thought of what she was walking to. It became increasingly harder, especially when the deja vu kicked in. She’d done this before, yes, and it had been painful.

Every step seemed a little harder, taking her closer to being a different person, a person who had experienced different things. Anne found herself edging closer to Kirk, clinging to his arm. He noticed; as they came up to the med bay, he murmured, “It’ll be okay, Anne. Whatever happens, we’ll make sure you’re all right.”

Anne laughed softly, bitterly, and didn’t answer.

The array of people waiting for them surprised her a little. Dr. Hayes and Dr. McCoy were talking softly, and ceased as they walked through the doors. Spock and Uhura waited nearby; Anne felt a little comforted when she saw Nyota’s smile. “I thought I’d come for moral support,” Nyota said, stepping forward. Anne let go of Kirk’s arm for a brief, warm embrace. Afterward, Nyota looked down at her, hands still on Anne’s arms. “Are you ready?”

Anne nodded wordlessly. She wasn’t sure she was ready. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be this different person, even if the memories were good. It didn’t matter. She stepped away from Uhura and looked at Spock, who inclined his head, and then the doctors. “Where should I be?” she asked, and her voice felt shaky.

Dr. Hayes nodded toward the isolation room she’d been in only days ago. “It’ll be a bit crowded, but it’s better to have some privacy.” At least she knew she could short the door to get out if something went wrong.

Feeling numb, Anne followed the doctors into the room, the rest trailing after her. She got up onto the bed, glancing over at McCoy, who remained silent. She had the feeling that wasn’t a normal state for him. He seemed… cautious. Kirk rounded the bed and half-sat on the other side, gently touching her shoulder. The warnth of his hand heartened her, made her feel a bit better.

“Please lie supine, Ms. Hardesty,” Spock said. “This may take some time.”

The sound of his voice was as full of deja vu as the walk through the halls. Anne found herself following the direction, settling herself on the bed. One of the pins in her hair dug into her scalp; she ignored it as best she could. “Let’s get this over with,” Anne said, her voice still just a little shaky. Kirk looked down at her with a little smile.

There was a brief moment, as Spock approached, where Anne felt herself wanting to scream, wanting to bolt, but she stomped it down as best she could. By the time she had herself under control, she felt Spock’s fingertips touching her face.

The world dissolved away into a familiar haze. Her mind felt uneasy, as if she were walking on ground that moved beneath her feet, her emotions burning and bubbling like lava beneath a thin frost of her control. The deja vu grew even stronger as she recognized the unfamiliar presence in her mind, a logical streak that reminded her of standing under a tropical waterfall on a rare cool day. She wasn’t sure how to communicate.

Spock’s thought reached her easily; she was communicating with him by her very presence there with him. He gently intimated that he was surveying her mind, making certain she could handle disassembling the seal on her memories. She could tell when he began his examination; every memory and strength and weakness that he searched through was clear to her, as if she also were searching herself. She couldn’t help picturing her mind as a cave full of thin walkways over lava, and as she did, she felt the presence of the seal like a blocked-off passage. It was a transgression, a thing that shouldn’t have been there. It was something in her mind that someone else had put there, a wall in front of memories she should have had. Somehow, it was more of an intrusion than Spock himself, more wrong, more unwelcome now that she could sense it clearly.

All hesitation evaporated. Anne dug at the seal, yanking at it, trying to break it down. All of her nervousness about who she would be once she regained her memories fled. The seal should not have been there. Someone had invaded her, cut off a part of her, and that barrier had to be eradicated, even if she hurt herself in the process.

Spock’s cautions reached her, but did not slow her. He was unsure that she should break the seal yet; her mind was far from calm, her emotions raging, threatening to spill over. Anne ignored him. Now that she could feel the presence of the seal, it could not be allowed to remain.

After a moment, Spock began to help her, guide her, trying to gentle her frantic tearing at the seal into a less damaging disassembly. She caught the impression that he realized there was no stopping her, so he was doing the best he could to make the transition as smooth as possible. She felt herself swayed towards certain areas, memories coming back as the seal came away, those first terrified days on the Enterprise, the trial, Jim’s efforts to help her, memories flooding in, filling in the cracks and the holes in her mind. But as they came back to her, she found her grip on her emotions failing entirely, freeing the rage and disgust and horror that had lain under her every waking moment, all of the fury at her helplessness and the need for retribution that had boiled to the surface while she had hunted Loche. Everything she had tried so hard to ignore, to repress, every bit of rage and pain that she had thrust back in order to function rushed to the forefront, finally freed.

Spock could not contain it. Anne found that she didn’t even want to try. There was something satisfying about giving in to it, letting that fury rush through her, blasting away the last bits of the memory barrier and any vestige of her self-preservation. It felt… powerful. Anne let herself fall into a sort of grim enjoyment that now she could pay for all the times she had made herself shove aside her morals and her anguish in order to survive.

It was too much. She felt Spock leave, his coldness breached by her blistering fury. As the sensation of her body came back to her, her hands snapped shut into tight and painful fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know... unfortunately real life has not been kind to me in terms of stress levels. I apologize, and a major thank you to those of you who reached out. I'm fine, just stressed. I'll try to keep on track. One way or another the story will get finished-- the first draft was done before I ever started posting, so one way or another you won't be left hanging. <3


	58. Chapter 58

Kirk’s first warning that something had gone wrong was Spock’s expression; a scowl furrowed his Commander’s brow as he surfaced from the mind meld. Spock’s eyes opened, and his voice was almost a snarl as he said, “Get out. Leave the room, immediately.” The startling tone of his order set Kirk on immediate alert. **  
**

Dr. Hayes’ face was grim as she ushered Uhura out of the room, the Lieutenant looking uneasily back at Anne. McCoy began, “Spock, what--”

“ _Now_ , Doctor,” Spock said. As he did, Anne slowly pushed herself up from the bed, her hands coming up to cover her face. Kirk could already see streaks of blood on them. Kirk found himself reaching out, his fingertips grazing one of Anne’s arms.

The force with which she slapped his hand away shocked him. He caught a glimpse of her expression before she covered her face again, a silent snarl of miserable fury that hurt to see. Kirk stepped back. Some part of him instinctively knew he could do nothing to help. Between him and Spock, they pulled McCoy from the room, closing the door behind them.

“There is nothing we can do,” Spock said, struggling to master the rage that had bled over into him. Uhura reached out to him, tentatively touching him, trying to lend her support. Spock leaned into her hand. “Ms. Hardesty is enduring the backlash of her failed control. There is nothing to do but wait.”

A sudden crash from the isolation room startled them all, and Kirk started toward the door. The privacy curtains had been drawn before they had gone in; he couldn’t see what was going on inside. Spock reached out, barring his way. “There is nothing to do but wait,” he repeated, the anger still evident in his eyes. He needed some time to regain control.

Instead, however, Hayes opened her kit for her scanner. “Spock,” she said sharply, and then something in Vulcan that Kirk only caught the gist of, declaring her intent to examine his brain and ordering him to one of the examination tables. Uhura must have gotten it too; she helped Spock over to the table, getting him on it for his examination.

Bones, too, was digging in his kit. “Five hours? Six?” he asked Hayes, pulling out a hypospray.

“Call security,” Hayes shot over her shoulder. “You’ll need the help restraining her. Worry about sedation length after.”

Another crash from the room interrupted Bones’ attempt to answer. The crashing continued, as if Anne was beating something to bits. Bones scowled, speaking up over the din. “You just might be right,” he said, pulling out his communicator.

The thought of it shot a burst of protective anger through Kirk. Restraints and sedation? “No,” he snapped. “Leave her be. I don’t care if she wrecks everything in the room. If that’s what she needs, let her have it.” He wasn’t sure he could explain it, but he knew that even if it had been with her cooperation, they had used her-- maybe not as badly as Loche or Tarenn had, but even so, she had been a strategic playing piece in their plan rather than a person. If he allowed McCoy and Hayes to sedate her, that would again be treating her as if she was an object, a thing to be maintained, used, and controlled.

That gave Hayes a moment of pause; she looked over her shoulder once again, the scanner in her hand dutifully relaying information that she wasn’t even seeing. “There’s no need for her to suffer,” she said, her eyes searching him, almost unbelieving, as if she couldn’t imagine why he would be against sedation and restraints. “Catharsis isn’t an effective way to get rid of those emotions. It just helps to normalize that kind of violent and self-destructive behavior.”

Uhura spoke up then, shaking her head, her hand still resting lightly on Spock’s shoulder. “You need to stop being a psychiatrist for a moment, Doctor,” she said. “Think about it. She’s been holding it together all this time, and we all knew it was costing her to help us out.” A set of clattering noises punctuated her words, making her flinch. “Even if it’s bad for her, she needs to let go.”

McCoy huffed in irritation. “We’re going to have to replace everything in that room,” he grumbled. Kirk knew it was his way of bowing to their judgment.

Hayes shook her head, but looked back at her scanner. “You’ve got a point there.” Kirk could see her tension and disapproval in the stiff lines of her back. “I just hate seeing this happen after everything else.”

With some effort, Kirk shook off his anger. Now was not the time. “The best thing we can do is get ready for her when she calms down.” Action, any action, would be better than just waiting. It was starting to seem like he was never in a position to help her-- never able to act, constantly having to restrain himself, only able to watch while Anne endured. At the very least, he could do this. “Spock, how’s the bleedover?” he asked, looking his Commander over. The frown had lifted, but Spock still looked a little flushed, his green blood having risen to his cheeks in the grip of emotion.

“I am maintaining my composure adequately, Captain,” Spock said, holding very still for Hayes’ scanner.

“Bones, get your kit ready. Her hands were already bleeding before we left the room, and who knows what kind of damage she’s doing to herself.”

McCoy was already setting out his tools, having anticipated Kirk’s order. “You do realize now that we’ve gotten her out of trouble, she’s making her own damn trouble.” Despite his surly tone, his eyes darted to the isolation room at another crash, his concern evident.

Uhura spoke up from her place at Spock’s side. “Jim, when she calms down, I should go talk to her first.”

Something in him rebelled at the idea; he should be the one to see her first. He should be the one to comfort her. Uhura had a point, though, and he didn’t need it explained to him. A friendship wasn’t as heavy as a relationship, and no one knew how much emotional weight Anne would be able to bear. Kirk nodded. “Be ready for it, then. We don’t know how long this is going to last.”

There was another loud smash from inside the room, and another sobbing cry. Uhura’s concerned eyes flicked toward the room. “Right,” she said, and looked back down to Spock.

Then there was nothing left to do but wait.

Anne sat on her heels in the middle of the room, looking dully at the ruin she had made of it, bloody hands folded in her lap. There were circuitboards and shards of plastic and glass everywhere. The bed had been overturned, its rails bent, the monitor on the wall had been smashed, and the chair she had been using as a bludgeon was lying on its side, its base snapped and hanging by a few fibers.

She couldn’t care, couldn’t bring herself to feel ashamed of the loss of control. Everything seemed faraway and inconsequential compared to the yawning nothingness inside her. She felt almost dizzy with it, her mind empty and light.

When the door opened, she felt mildly surprised to see Nyota standing there. She had expected Jim. Anne tried for a smile, felt it twist into something else, and said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Nyota said. She recognized Anne’s attempt as a smile, and returned it with a small, sympathetic smile of her own. “Can I come in?” She didn’t look upset or angry or anything like that, just concerned.

“Sure.” Anne watched her walk through the door, stepping over debris, and brush off a place on the ground so she could sit down at Anne’s side. “Sorry about this,” Anne murmured, not sure if she was or not but knowing she should make the gesture.

“It’ll give Scotty something to do on the way back,” Nyota said, dismissing the apology. She fell silent for a moment, surveying the scene around her. “You did a number on this room,” she said finally. “Did it help?”

Anne had to consider that. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, if she was feeling anything at all. “I don’t know. I think so.”

“Do you think it’s something you’ll need to do again?” Nyota asked. It was sort of funny-- she said it as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, an everyday thing, as routine as dialing up dinner on a synthesizer.

A smile, faint but genuine, teased the corners of Anne’s mouth. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Think you could do it in the gym with a few punching bags or something?” Glancing at Anne from the corner of her eye, Nyota shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll run out of med equipment if you keep at it in here.”

That surprised a soft, short laugh from Anne. “I don’t think medical equipment is required, no.”

Nyota lifted her arm, slowly laying it across Anne’s back and pulling her in so that Anne was leaning against her. Anne let her do it, sighing and laying her head on Nyota’s shoulder. “You got your memories back, huh?” she asked, her voice low, sympathetic, comforting-- undemanding.

“Yeah,” Anne said. “All of them. I… fuck. I don’t know if I can…” Anne suddenly found herself tearing up and tried to swallow back the lump rising in her throat. “I’m just so fucking broken,” she said bitterly. “It’s not even just this last year. It’s just… everything. My whole fucking life I’ve been running away from people trying to make me into things I’m not. Even when I was a kid, my mother… I just... I don’t know if I can stand it anymore. I can’t even feel safe alone anymore, not after all this shit.”

Resting her cheek against Anne’s head, Nyota sighed. “I won’t try to tell you you’re safe here with us, not after the mission and all. But it’s over. No one here is going to try to make you do anything you don’t want to do. You’ve got some time, you’ve got friends here-- hell, you could probably stay on after we leave Yorktown if you need to. I can’t say you’re safe, not completely, but you’re at least safer.”

“Yeah,” Anne said, and then fell silent. After a long time spent staring at the wreckage of an intravenous pump in front of her, she added, “Thanks.”

They sat together for a time, just being quiet, listening to the crackle of the circuits and the sound of each other’s breathing. Anne felt herself relaxing, leaning more against Nyota, gratitude for her presence starting to fill the yawning emotionless gulf inside her. Gratitude, and sadness, and affection, and a slow, aching hurt that she knew would never truly leave her. Deep wounds never really hurt at first; they were just numb, just gaps in feeling. Anne remembered what her scars had felt like, numb warmth at first, and then a quick slide into pain. 

She didn’t cry. She was too tired for that. After a long time, she laughed once, barely more than an exhalation.

Nyota knew what that was. “You think you can go out?” She laughed quietly. “Jim’s probably going crazy waiting out there. He hates not knowing what’s going on.”

Anne felt herself smile. That wound throbbed, but it was bearable. As if summoned by her stabilizing emotions, sudden guilt arrowed through her. “How is Spock?” she asked, lifting her head and looking up at Nyota. If Spock wasn’t all right, she wasn’t sure she could leave.

“Doctor Hayes took care of it. He’s taking it easy for a bit. He got out of the meld fast enough; there wasn’t much damage.” Nyota grinned. “Do you really think I’d be in here if he was hurt that badly?”

Anne felt herself relax, although she wasn’t happy about hurting someone yet again. “I wouldn’t blame you if you hadn’t come in at all,” she said.

Nyota’s grin only widened. “Making it on this ship, especially as a senior officer, means you better have a taste for dangerous pastimes. He’s fine, and even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t be your fault. He knew the risks.” She shook her head, looking away as if remembering something, or many things. “We all do, here.”

Watching Nyota, Anne felt as if she could never quite aspire to those ingrained morals, not after all that had happened in the last year. If nothing else, at least her illusions about herself had been torn away with everything else that had been taken from her. It was cold comfort, but it was still comfort-- Anne knew what she was capable of, and how much it took to drive her to it. But those were things she couldn’t bear to voice at the moment; she just said softly, “I’m lucky to have been the beneficiary of that willingness.”

Nyota’s gaze flicked back to her, searching, as if she’d heard something under Anne’s words, something Anne hadn’t meant to express. She didn’t push, though. “It’s not luck. You’re part of the crew, at least as long as you want to be. Maybe longer. Either way, that means we have a responsibility to you. And Captain Kirk would probably rather we were all court-martialled than have one of his crew members shift blame onto another.” She grinned again. “So maybe you’d better remember that when you’re trying to take the blame for things Spock chose to do.”

The thought of being court-martialled for blaming herself was just absurd enough that Anne found herself wearing another tiny grin. “If I had a tail, Starfleet logic would twist it. Painfully.”

The reference to the way Sivaoans expressed laughter made Nyota snicker and hug her a little tighter. “And if the Captain had a tail, it would look like someone had fed him a whole bowl full of tail-kinkers by now. Come on. Let’s get out of here and get cleaned up. I brought you some clothes.” Despite her encouraging, she left it to Anne to make the first move to get up.

It was time, anyway. She couldn’t hide forever. Anne pushed herself up from the floor, rising briefly to her toes to stretch the cramps out of her legs. “I wonder if I can make the food synthesizer spit out something like a tail-kinker?” she asked, trying to keep her mind on the triviality rather than the bruise she could feel throbbing on her cheek and the nasty one she could see on the top of her foot, or the miscellaneous scrapes and scratches from shards of flying plastic and glass.

“Well, we did take samples, and the genetic and chemical compositions are still in our logs,” Uhura said as they stepped into the med bay. “And Spock liked them.”

“To what are you referring?” Spock inquired, obviously having caught Uhura’s last comment. He was seated in a nearby chair, his posture as formal as ever, as if even being told to rest couldn’t take the stiffness from his spine.

Anne and Uhura glanced at each other and then back to Spock.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not important.”

Spock’s only reaction was a skeptically raised eyebrow. Or at least that was the only reaction Anne saw before her eyes were inexorably drawn to Jim.

Those blue eyes were searching her face, catching on her wounds, lingering on the half-undone spill of her hair, and Anne keenly felt small and grubby and tired and nowhere near worth all this fuss. Miraculously, he didn’t seem to agree-- he smiled, and while it was a little rueful, it was even more relieved. “Hey, gorgeous.” He tossed aside the padd he was holding and stood away from the examination table he’d been leaning on, but didn’t make any move to come closer.

“Hey, cher,” Anne said. She felt strangely hesitant, even though she knew he wouldn’t have greeted her that way if he was upset with her. “I… I’m a little better.” She felt her hands wanting to twist together and stilled them, making them into fists. Loose, because she’d scratched up her palms again. And her knuckles had split.

“You’d better be,” McCoy grumbled, fiddling with a setting on the dermal regenerator. “On the table, on the double, Crewman. And this had better be the last time I have to patch you up over this whole mess.”

“Bones--” Kirk began, and then stopped himself, sighing in irritation.

Oddly enough, McCoy’s cranky reaction made Anne feel a bit better. “I hope so too,” she said, her voice a little stronger. Uhura touched her briefly on the shoulder, giving her a grin before she went to talk to Spock. “Where’s Doctor Hayes?” Anne asked. It wasn’t that she didn’t want McCoy working on her, but she’d thought Hayes would insist.

“The baby woke up,” McCoy said, scowling down into his kit without actually reaching in to get anything.

Anne felt her eyebrows rise, and she glanced over at Jim. His smothered grin was confirmation enough-- McCoy had a soft spot for babies, or that baby. One of the two. Anne felt as if she should have known it; no one could be that crusty, not for real. He probably saved pictures of kittens in his personal profile. Feeling even steadier, she came to hop up on the table beside where Jim was standing and let McCoy do his job. Jim looked on for a few moments as McCoy started examining her wounds, then murmured, “Be right back.” Anne watched him walk to the isolation room door, flinching as it opened.

“Keep still,” McCoy growled.

He didn’t make a noise, but Anne saw Jim’s spine straighten as he took in the extent of the damage. She could only imagine the expression on his face. After a few moments, he flipped open his communicator. “Scotty, we’re going to need some repairs in the med bay,” he said. “I think you’re going to have to handle this one. Maybe Keenser too.”

Scotty’s voice sounded tinny and small, but Jim wasn’t far enough away that Anne couldn’t hear him. “What, why? What broke?”

“Uhh… a lot.” Kirk stepped into the room, and shards of plastic crunched under his boots. Before the door closed, Anne heard him say, “A medical display and one of the beds to start--”

McCoy grabbed her chin, turning her face so that he could look at the bruise on her cheek. He wasn’t rough, just no-nonsense about it, even though he was scowling like a thundercloud. “Next time you need any doctoring done, you’re getting it in your quarters where you can wreck your own things after.” He grabbed the handheld steri-field and started to work on a couple of spots on her face. Anne hadn’t known she’d cut her face, but it figured.

After a few moments of quiet talk with Nyota, Spock stood up from the chair he’d been seated in. “Doctor, I believe I am sufficiently recovered and request your permission to leave.”

“You heard Claudia, Spock. You’re barred from duty for the rest of the day. You stay here.” Anne felt herself flinch again. Had the damage been that bad? McCoy’s eyes flicked to hers, and then Anne saw him smirk, out of Spock’s line of sight, before he said to her, “He’d rather shut the barn door after the horses have bolted. Not in _my_ med bay.”

“As usual, I fail to see the relevance of your references to livestock, Doctor. I am, however, familiar enough with your human eccentricities of speech to determine that you wish these precautionary measures to stay precautionary, in which case I can assure you that I will remain off duty, and I will be supervised most closely at all times.”

Anne very carefully kept her face blank as she looked over at Nyota, who, she learned, also had a great poker face.

“Fine,” McCoy snapped. “But if I find out that either of those things isn’t true, I’ll drag you back in here by one of those pointy ears of yours. Got it?”

There was no way that animosity was real. Not if the two of them were friends of Jim’s. Anne thought back, remembering that yes, Nyota had named them both as being part of that group.

“That is inadvisable, Doctor, however I will respond to reasonable requests in a timely fashion. I would not wish to compromise your standard of care.” Spock’s blandness was so monotone that it didn’t take a student of Vulcan-Human relations to decipher the sarcasm there. “Ms. Hardesty, I wish to convey my hopes for your full and quick restoration. Perhaps we should meet socially once you are recovered.”

“I’d like that,” Anne said a little faintly, trying not to give away either of the things she’d realized.

“Good. We will arrange it at some other time.” Spock inclined his head toward her.

Nyota, who had stayed silent, and mostly expressionless throughout this, glanced over at Spock, stifling her grin, then said almost exactly the same thing Spock had. “See you later, Anne. Message me when you’re feeling better.”

“I will,” Anne said, catching the glance Nyota and Spock exchanged. He seemed to be well aware of the way Nyota had teased him, and Anne felt a little frustrated that she wasn’t better at reading the subtleties of Vulcan expressions… but she would have risked a pretty large bet on him being just as amused over it as Nyota was. The two of them walked out of the med bay together, maybe a little less purposefully than if they were on duty.

McCoy was silent for a moment after they left, then laughed softly and spoke without looking up from his work. “They think they’re putting one over on me. I know. But you practically have to beat him over the head with a two-by-four to get him to take it easy. She’ll make sure he doesn’t get up to too much mischief.” He shook his head, picking up the dermal regenerator and going over the smallest cuts on her face, moving on to her arms and then her legs as he spoke. “Nicely done, by the way. If I didn’t already know them so well, you wouldn’t have given it away. Although in the future you’d be wise to tell me about things that might affect the health of my crewmates.”

Anne felt her shoulders sink a bit, her body relaxing. “I wasn’t sure about that, but I didn’t think Nyota would let anything happen to him.”

McCoy fell silent again, finishing up the smallest cuts, then asked, “Are you going to need to stay in the med bay? And be honest with me, because if I think you’re fudging it I’ll keep you here.”

“I don’t know,” Anne said. “I don’t want to stay here, but I…” Anne felt tears spring to her eyes and blinked them back, frustration making her voice sharper. “I can’t make any promises right now. At least if I go back with Jim I’ve got less of a chance of losing it. And if I do, I can lock myself in the washroom or something.”

Setting the dermal regenerator down, McCoy grabbed the protoplaser and seized her chin, beginning to work on the aching bruise. “Well, at least you’ve got the sense to be honest when I ask for it. Jim doesn’t, and neither does Spock.” The pain started to ebb away as the blood vessels beneath the flesh began to mend. His eyes still on the bruise, McCoy continued to speak. “You did fine, you know. If you were career Starfleet, you’d be up for an officer’s rank on the basis of this alone, at least on this ship. Jim likes his crew to have guts. I’m not saying you’re in the clear for getting involved with him, but, well, I’m not stupid. Just worried, about both of you.” He didn’t meet her eyes; he just kept the tingling protoplaser running over her cheek.

Anne watched him for few moments, wondering if he knew something she didn’t about Jim, wondering what would make him worry that much. “He seems like he can take care of himself,” she said, and she heard that worry threading through her own voice.

McCoy met her eyes then, briefly, almost immediately looking back over to where he was working. “He can, mostly.” He seemed to want to say something more, then shook his head. “Well, sometime when you’re all put back together, I’ve got some advice to hand out, and I _will_ make you sit still to hear it. But not now. It’s not important yet anyway.”

Whatever it was, Anne had the feeling she would probably have started crying if she’d had to hear it right now. “Thanks for letting me keep my dignity,” she said, with just a tiny hint of sarcasm.

“Look, I’m just making sure I don’t get belted for upsetting you after all that ruckus earlier.” McCoy’s tone was as gruff and cranky as ever, but Anne saw the corner of his mouth lift fractionally. “Maybe he’ll stop being such a goddamn pain in the ass now that you’re back in your right mind again.”

“Don’t give me too much credit, Doctor,” Anne said dryly.

McCoy flicked the protoplaser off, turning her head this way and that, eyeing her cheek critically. “That’s the spirit.” He dropped her chin and held his hand out for hers, starting work on her knuckles. “Remind me to get you in for surgery on that jaw,” he said, glancing up at her jawline and then back down at her hand, his brows drawing together. “I couldn’t get it fixed just right, not with the shitty setup they had down there.”

Anne’s mind wandered back to those few frantic days when she’d known nothing about him, realizing slowly that he’d been trying to reassure her as best he could whenever he’d spoken to her. “It’s not like it’s--”

The isolation room door slid open, and Jim stepped out, still on the communicator with Scotty. “Bones, how much of a priority is it to get that room functional?” he asked.

McCoy didn’t even look at him. “It’s my med bay, Jim. Priority number one.” He flipped her hand over, beginning on her palm. At least the scratches weren’t as deep as the time she’d had that nightmare.

“Fit it in where you can, Scotty,” Jim said, ignoring McCoy’s growl of displeasure.

“I’ll work on it whenever I’ve got a spare moment down here, but I’m no’ goin tae break my back o’er it, Captain. We may need some supplies from Yorktown anyway.”

“What the hell did you do in there?” McCoy asked, his eyes darting to her face, his hands stilling.

“I was angry,” Anne said quietly, guiltily. “I wrecked it.”

Jim walked over to them, his expression caught partway between exasperation and admiration. “Well, do what you can for now. The ship’s not moving until those transports get here and get loaded up. Kirk out.” He flipped the communicator shut and stowed it at his waist. “Scotty says he owes you a drink,” he said grinning at Anne. “He said he doesn’t know how you even managed some of that.” It sounded like he was teasing, and she felt herself smile tentatively.

McCoy set the protoplaser down, dropping her hand, and stalked over to the isolation room. The door slid open, and he stood in the doorway.

“You look a bit better,” Jim said, stepping in close and lifting a hand, letting it hover near her cheek until she gave him a minute nod. His fingertips grazed her bruised, formerly painful cheekbone, and then pushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “Did you get the all clear to come home tonight?”

“I think so,” Anne said. She felt tears welling up in her eyes again. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, looking away, trying to blink back the tears. “I keep falling apart.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got your back, always.” His hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb resting on the slightly crooked spot in her jawline. “You do whatever you need to do, and I’ll help however I can.”

Anne leaned into his hand, looking up at Jim. Even if she was falling apart, she was still certain of one thing. “I’m so lucky you found me,” she murmured. “I’m so lucky it was you.”

“Damn right,” he said, giving her a crooked grin. 

“Get off her,” McCoy growled as he walked towards them. Batting Kirk away, he picked up the protoplaser and began to work on Anne’s injuries again. “If it were up to me, your pay would be docked for every single thing you broke in that room. You’d be poor for the next ten years paying it back.”

Anne frowned. “Am I getting paid?” she asked, looking to Kirk. It seemed incredibly odd.

“You’re technically a crew member, so yeah, you’re getting paid.” He shook his head, still grinning. “You’d have done it for free, huh?”

Of course. Anne smiled a little. There was no need to get into specifics. “Credits aren’t a concern for me.”

“I should have guessed,” Kirk said. “Well, it doesn’t matter. You’re a crew member, so you’re getting paid for your time, same as the rest of us.” He paused, then added, “That reminds me, do you want to go back to active duty at some point? You’re on medical leave right now. You can stay that way if you want.”

Anne shook her head. “Ask me tomorrow. Right now I just want to go home.”

“Soon,” Kirk said. “Once you’re all fixed up and cleaned up. We brought you a dress, since yours is kind of wrecked.” His gaze took in the dress she was wearing-- it had little smears of blood on it, and the hem had torn when it had caught on something. “You’ll feel better when you don’t look like you got caught in a wringer.”

Anne nodded, lifting her hands to her hair. “You’re so right,” she said as she pulled the pins and began to re-twist her hair. 

Kirk watched her do her hair with an oddly contented look. “Starfleet captains aren’t allowed to be wrong,” he said.

Recognizing her words from so long ago, Anne felt a sudden burst of affection. He’d remembered. She could have kissed him for that. “So I’ve heard,” she murmured, smiling.

“Ugh. Stop it,” McCoy said, running the protoplaser over the huge bruise on her foot. The tingling feeling made her want to twitch. “That’s the last thing I want to hear. Put a lid on it for five more minutes while I finish you up.”

Kirk only smirked at McCoy, then looked back to Anne. “I’m thinking dinner and drinks. Maybe not a movie tonight, maybe just music. Sound good?”

Anne nodded, and then laughed softly. “As long as we don’t let it get out of hand.”

“Not tonight,” Kirk laughed. “I’m going to have to stock up when we get back to Yorktown. You’ll run me dry if we’re not careful.”

“Maybe just a glass or two of wine tonight.” Anne thought for a moment, then smiled shyly. “You’ve given me your kind of comfort food. Maybe tonight we’ll have mine. But I’ll need about twenty minutes with the synthesizer first.”

“Mysterious,” Kirk said, a laugh caught in his voice. “Will you tell me what it is, or is it a surprise?”

Shaking her head, Anne laughed, “No surprise, but I don’t know if you’ll know it. It’s called pide. It’s sort of like a pizza. When I first lived on my own, I didn’t know how to cook, so I was just living on fruits and vegetables I could get from the marchand. Every once in a while, when I could afford it, I’d get a pide from one of the greasy little take out places that were everywhere.”

Looking oddly at her, Kirk asked, “Didn’t you have a food synthesizer?”

Anne shook her head. “Not regularly. I was moving from place to place a lot.” She smiled. “And the culture is different there. Just punching up a meal is… not vulgar, exactly, but it’s regarded very skeptically. Synth is not embraced.”

“Is that why you worked in restaurants?” Kirk asked. She could tell that he was curious, but trying not to hit any subjects that might be upsetting. 

“I worked in restaurants because they were the only ones who would hire me. I was too young to work legally, but as I’ve said before, restaurants have a very casual relationship with the law.” Anne shrugged. “In two years I was able to legally work, but by then I was used to working with food. It was better than dancing, though I did resort to that at times.”

McCoy made a noise of irritation, reminding her that he was there. “Slipped through the cracks, did you?”

That touched on a more sensitive subject. Anne slowly shook her head. “Avoided the institutions entirely. I had my reasons.”

Kirk knew that they were too close to something painful, and steered the conversation elsewhere. “You mentioned going over the synth logs to tweak some of the dishes. Did you still want to do that?”

Anne felt her heart lift. It would be so nice to be useful. “Yes,” she said, breaking out into a smile.

Kirk answered it with a lopsided grin. “There’s that one ridiculous dimple.”

“Get out,” McCoy said, shutting off the protoplaser and rising to look at both of them though he directed his words at Anne. “You get your dress on and then both of you get out of here. You’re finished. And I don’t want to hear any more of that sugary horseshit.”

With an exasperated look at McCoy, Kirk handed Anne the garment. She slid from the examination table and stepped behind one of the privacy curtains around the regular biobeds, quickly skimming out of her dress and into the other. She didn’t hurt anywhere, although the bruising on her foot, and probably her cheek as well, was still evident. Oh well. It would fade. Stuffing the ruined dress in the disposal, she quickly patted her hair into place before stepping out and approaching Kirk and McCoy. They were both watching her, for different reasons, McCoy almost skeptically, and Kirk with warmth. 

“Let’s go home,” Kirk said, that warmth suffusing his voice.

Anne paused to look at McCoy. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your work. And I apologize for the damage I’ve done; I can only say that I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

McCoy watched her for a moment before answering. “Thanks for the apology,” he said, his voice gruff. “Now go on. I’m finished with you.” Without another word, he turned and walked away.

Anne smiled and went to Kirk. She barely noticed taking his arm; it was automatic, almost instinctive. All she was really thinking of was how much safer she felt in his presence, how much she wanted to be close to him. They were silent as they walked through the halls, not needing to speak, just enjoying the closeness.

As soon as they stepped into his quarters, Kirk turned, lightly drawing her nearer. Anne went willingly to him, pressing against him. His chin rested on the top of her head, his arms wrapped around her. “It’s good to have you back,” he murmured.

Anne didn’t know how to answer that, so she just slid her arms around him, holding him as tightly as he held her. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, his heartbeat slow and calming. It was good just to hold him and be held by him. After a long while, they pulled apart, Kirk looking down at her. “Dinner? Or are you too tired?”

Smiling, Anne said, “Dinner’s fine. Just let me work on it for a bit.”

Handing her the padd, Kirk led her to the couch, pulling her against his side when they were seated. Anne sighed and leaned on him, logging into the padd and starting her addition to the synth database. As she worked, Kirk absently pulled the pins from her hair, tossing them on the table. Once it was down, he ran his fingers through the ends, making sure they weren’t a tangle.

“There,” Anne finally said. “That should work.” She looked over at Kirk. “I’ll get dinner. You should relax.”

Instead of answering, Kirk slowly leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. Anne felt hunger spike through her, her body suddenly brimming with want. She resisted the urge to coax him into a deeper kiss, putting a hand on his chest and answering the touch of his lips with feathery brushes of her own. His hand settled at her waist, his fingers digging in just at the curve, giving in to the urge to be more forceful that he was resisting in the kiss.

When it ended, Anne had to catch her breath. She smiled up at him, feeling a little shy. “I’ll get dinner,” she murmured, standing up from the couch.

In short order, they had pide and white wine. The taste of the sausage and egg pide felt so nostalgic, so full of memories of being a little bit flush with credits, being proud of learning how to take care of herself when nothing she’d learned had ever prepared her to do so. It was such a greasy, cheap, pedestrian dish to hold such powerful memories; Anne found herself laughing softly. “What do you think?” she asked Jim. “It’s basically street food. It’s not healthy, it’s usually not even that well-made. This one is a bit less terrible for you than the ones I used to get, but it’s still not something to live on.”

Jim chuckled, looking at the slice he held in his hand. “It’s good. Definitely a good comfort food.” He looked over at her, hesitating just a bit before adding, “I think that’s the only time you’ve ever really talked about your past.”

Anne felt her mouth twitch in an involuntary smirk. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you, but I don’t like to think about it much.”

“You don’t have to,” Jim said. “There’s no reason to dwell on it.”

Strangely, she found herself wanting to tell him. It wasn’t logical. As he’d said, there was no reason. She just… wanted him to know. “My mother had me training as a dancer all my life, to the exclusion of everything else. I didn’t know how to access or spend credits, I didn’t know how to work a synthesizer, not even the simplest things. I got only the most basic, perfunctory education, from private tutors. I’m sure the staff were well-rewarded to ignore anything out of the ordinary; credits and connections were two things my mother had in abundance. And, well, I was never good enough for her. You know how the story goes. I left because I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to plan it really well, too, because she would have done a lot to chase me down and bring me back. I got pretty good at hiding… and I got the world’s worst crash course in interacting with people. I had to think it all through and figure it out. That was when I started writing. I was trying to help myself figure out human interaction.” She laughed quietly. “Turns out when you isolate a kid and never let her socialize, she has a hard time sorting out how people work.”

“You learned it pretty damn well,” Jim said. His matter-of-fact attitude was wonderful to Anne. She didn’t need someone to cry over things that had happened years ago. “That’s the main reason I read your books.”

Awkwardly, Anne murmured, “Thank you. I’m glad to know I’m getting it right.” She twirled her wine glass by the stem, watching the wine leap up around the sides of the glass. 

Jim reached up, stroking her hair, and Anne realized that she was no longer bracing for that, no longer flinching away or having to decide whether she could handle his touch there. She trusted him not to pull it. “Until I was eleven, I was a goody-two-shoes teacher’s pet,” Jim said, a cheerless little grin on his face. “It was the same deal with me-- never good enough for my stepfather. And he was worse on my brother. Sam. Sam was older than me; he left when I was eleven. My mother was off-planet a lot, she wasn’t involved. She didn’t know. By the time she had any idea, I’d already started earning a criminal record.” He shrugged. “Things just… continued that way, even after my mother kicked my stepfather out. And I had my father to live up to, which… let’s just say I wasn’t even trying. Admiral Pike was the one who got me to try. I respected him a lot, and his death was hard on me.”

Anne nodded. “My father was like that for me, for a while. There was even a period where he was trying to get custody of me, but one day when he was supposed to visit, he just… never came. I never saw him again and no one would tell me what had happened. It was devastating for me.” A little smirk formed on her lips. This wound was too old for bitterness. “That was when I started planning my escape.”

Jim let his fingers wander to her cheek, running a thumb along her cheekbone. She wasn’t sure why that, of all things, was an expression of affection from him, but she liked it. It felt like it meant he was paying attention as closely to her as she was to him. “And here’s that interesting thing again. How could you say you weren’t interesting?”

“It’s just another sob story,” Anne said. “There are hundreds of them. The only reason you think it’s interesting is because…”  She paused, choosing her words cautiously. “Because we’re involved.”

“I’m not going to argue about whether you’re objectively interesting,” Jim laughed. “Really, I’d much rather…” His hand slipped to her jaw, tipping her chin up. “...just…” He leaned in, his lips brushing hers. “...appreciate you,” he finished, murmuring against her mouth. Anne felt herself melt against him, her body craving the feel of his. It was as much about comfort as it was about lust-- Anne was too raw, too wounded, not to need soothing. She let him draw her into his lap, their breath tangling and their lips catching on each other, delicate, teasing little kisses that made Anne’s heart speed. 

Eventually they ended up on their sides on the couch, clinging to each other, legs entwined and lips locked. Maybe it was a side effect of the events of the day or the confessions they’d made, but their kisses were slow, unhurried, and the gentle explorations of their hands were almost incidental. Anne revelled in the taste of him, her entire being focussed on the points where they connected. And at some point the gasps between kisses became words, endearments, tender whispers that warmed her and soothed her as much as they inflamed her. 

Gradually, hands began to work their way in and under clothing, clasps and fastenings starting to come undone. There was no hurry, however-- it felt as if they had all the time in the world, as if there was no one particular aim or goal in mind aside from those enthralling kisses. Anne felt as if she could do this forever, as if there was nothing that could possibly be better than this. Her skin burned where he touched her, her dress half-off and her brassiere unfastened, one of his hands on her breast, his thumb rubbing absently over her nipple.

After enough gentle touches, her hands persuading the gold shirt and the thin black undershirt up, Jim broke the kiss, pulling the shirt off and tossing it away. “Maybe we should go to the bedroom,” he murmured, looking down at Anne’s state of disarray with satisfaction.

Smiling, Anne sat up, stealing another kiss before she stood. She made no effort to pull her clothes back into place, and when he joined her, he slid his hand over her naked shoulder as he claimed her lips.

The journey to the bed seemed especially long, perhaps because they still couldn’t quite break off those kisses. A scattered trail of clothing marked their path, and by the time Anne slid into the bed, she was naked, and so was he. She had a moment to admire his body before he was beside her, his skin against hers and his lips seeking out hers once more. Leaning over her, he pressed her tenderly into the bed, his skin warm and welcome against hers. And again the whispers, the sweet, soft words that slipped from her between kisses, met by his heated answers.

Dreamlike, hazy, pleasure-soaked minutes fell away, one after the other, each one stoking their burning desire as it passed. Jim’s hand was on her body, sweeping over her as if he was trying to imprint the feel of every muscle and scar, every sigh and undulation, on his memory. When he moved over her, when his cock slid inside her, it felt so natural, so right to be joined this way, that Anne could hardly breathe. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her lips still clinging to his while her hands wandered his body. It was slow and thorough and unutterably delicious, their hips moving in tandem, their rhythm matching perfectly. It was like a gift, their bodies so much in accord that Anne felt as if her heart would burst with it.

Inevitably, it had to end, but when it did it was such a sweet spiraling perfection that Anne felt a little lost once it was over, reality seeming strange to her after the blissful heights she’d reached. Jim looked as if he felt the same, a little out of place with everything except her. The kisses continued, slower now, the pauses between them growing longer. Jim moved off her, gathering her close to him, resting his cheek on the top of her head as they drifted back down to reality.

Anne sighed, nuzzling Jim and stealing a tiny kiss before finally falling back, letting herself edge towards beckoning sleep. Her body seemed to hum with contentment. After a few moments, though, she realized that Jim was tense, not drifting down toward sleep as she was, that he was lying awake beside her. That could only mean that he had something on his mind.

“What is it?” Anne asked softly, running her hand along his side.

She felt his uncertainty, and it was enough to make her open her eyes, to pull back and look at him. It took a few moments, but their perfect accord swayed him enough to speak. “Claudia said you loved me.”

How could she not? And how, after that perfect lovemaking, could she deny it? “Claudia talks too much,” Anne said. It was a confirmation, and they both knew it, but at least she hadn’t said it. There was no point. It would only make things harder later on. She tucked her head back under his chin and pressed close, as close as she could. “It doesn’t change anything,” Anne said.

Jim held her tighter and murmured, “I know.”


	59. Chapter 59

The transports signalled their impending arrival while Kirk was on that third day off, so at least he was able to spend that time with Anne before having to start organizing the exodus of smugglers from their hideout. Between his crew and Vergne’s, they’d kept things under control, and the supplies to maintain the smugglers in good condition had come from Loche’s stockpiles, making the logistics of such a huge undertaking much more feasible. Still, he thought as he reviewed the incident list, the enforced idleness was affecting both the prisoners and the crew. It would be a relief to pass the bulk of the issue off on people better trained for this sort of thing. His crew were combat-trained, sure, but their training had never anticipated the need to maintain a large population of prisoners. Fights among the prisoners were becoming more common, and there were even a few fights between prisoners and crew members. “It’s not that bad, Vergne,” he said, reading over the list again. “The worst one was broken up within a few minutes and no one’s had any lasting injuries.” **  
**

“It’s the next altercation I’m worried about,” Vergne said from the viewscreen on his desk. “And the one after that. Not to mention the legal nightmare it’ll be if someone does permanent damage.”

“ETA on the transports puts them here at 0400 tomorrow. I doubt anything major will happen between now and then. In the meantime, we just get the message out to the crew that it’s not going to be much longer, and to stay alert and on their best behavior. They’ll be fine. They can hold out a bit longer.” Kirk had already drafted up a communique to that effect once he’d gotten the news.

“Does that mean you’re volunteering to stay with the phase two crew?” Vergne asked dryly, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow at him. 

The plan for evacuation of the smugglers had been to split it into two phases, with the higher ranked or more potentially dangerous prisoners going first, along with the noncombatants like the women. On separate ships, of course. Phase two would load and leave a few days later, carrying the less volatile prisoners and the controlled substances found on the base. Originally the thought had been that the Enterprise would leave with phase one, and the Farragut would stay in order to accompany phase two, mainly in order to provide phase one with more manpower in case of any trouble with the prisoners. Kirk thought it over. The Farragut was easily capable of putting down an insurrection; Vergne ran a tight ship, and her crew were all seasoned. The Enterprise was still in her shakedown period, and not all of the crew were as used to their stations yet. “If you want phase one, you can have it,” he said finally. “I don’t see that it’ll make much of a difference security-wise. And we can hold on a few days longer here.”

“I definitely want phase one. You’ve got better morale facilities-- you can handle a few extra days better than I can.” Vergne brushed her hair out of her eyes, pursing her lips. “And I’ll feel better the sooner that bastard’s in rehabilitation. He’s one creepy fucker.”

“Agreed. But a couple days…” Kirk sighed. “Recommend you get him off your ship ASAP, before any of the other prisoners are dealt with.”

“You think I don’t have that covered already? Really, Jim.” Vergne’s expression still looked unsettled, however. “Off the record, just between you and me, I’m pretty sure he’s planning to kill me if he can get away with it somehow. That doesn’t bother me so much, but the fact that he doesn't act like it… you’d think you met him at a fucking church social or something. I’ve had to move four people off brig duty altogether.”

“Wait a second, that’s not--” Kirk began, and then frowned. “Huh. No, I’m wrong. Sulu said he was persuasive. I didn’t see him until Anne started staring him down, though, and I’m guessing he decided to drop the front while she was around.”

“It’s too bad they can’t be on the same ship. I could use him looking a bit less human and sympathetic,” Vergne grumbled.

“Out of the question. The last thing we need is her breaking him out of his cell to try to kill him again.” Kirk did not look over to the couch where Anne sat, hearing every word.

“I know. I wasn’t serious.” He saw her glance down to the corner of her screen, and then her back straightened. “I’d better go. My shift starts in ten minutes. Say hi to your girl for me.” She smirked.

Kirk pretended a frown. “Give it up, Ella. She’s not that into women.”

“You better hope, anyway. Vergne out.” He saw her reach forward, and then the screen cleared, leaving only the Starfleet seal.

“Even if I did prefer women, I wouldn’t be in any rush to swap you for her,” Anne said absently, her voice rising over the back of the couch with no evident effort on her part to follow it. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Kirk said, amused. He adjusted the communique that he’d drafted, then sent it out and turned off his viewscreen, wandering over to where Anne was curled up. She grinned up at him, then made a quick adjustment on the padd she was holding. An iconic organ introduction from the dawn of rock and roll started to play softly. “Nice,” he said admiringly. She had good taste. Well, maybe it was more to the point to say she had compatible taste. Either way. “What’s that?” he asked, catching a glimpse of what looked like a video on the padd.

“Mmm. I was looking around. Here, what do you think of this one?” Anne asked, rapidly flicking through pictures and then passing him the padd.

Kirk settled himself on the couch beside her before looking at the padd, glancing over it as she nestled against his side. After a moment, he flicked back to the information, taking note of the address on Yorktown. “Pretty upscale,” he said, feeling himself grin and going back to the virtual tour. “I guess that answers whether we were still getting an apartment or not.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Anne asked. “I mean, unless you think it’s a bad idea…”

“Me? Why would-- you know what, let’s not get into all that. Was there a reason you were looking at this one?”

To his relief, Anne seemed to find the idea of examining their motivations just as distasteful as he did. That was probably not a great pattern to reinforce in each other. Oh well. “I just started with the most expensive buildings, grouped them by height, then filtered out all the ones that didn’t have kitchens, balconies, garages, and suites immediately available.”

“Your priorities are so warped,” Kirk chuckled, shaking his head. “We could probably get something that would suit us just fine without having to spend credits on the premium suites. And we should be looking at furnished places.”

She could tell that he didn’t disapprove. She poked him playfully in the ribs, snickering when he flinched. Earlier that day she’d discovered that he was just a bit ticklish there, although thankfully she wasn’t being too much of a pest with it. “My priorities are just fine, thank you, and I’d rather pick my own furniture this time. I like furniture shopping.”

Kirk glanced over at her, still grinning. His apartment in San Francisco had come furnished; he'd never picked out furniture before. A sudden thought dampened his amusement. “That sounds awfully time consuming, though.”

“Not unless we argue about it,” Anne said, surprised. “Are you expecting to have pitched battles over silverware patterns or something? Because if it’s that important to you--”

Kirk waved her off, amused at the thought. Silverware, even. “No, no. I just meant that’s time we could have spent in bed if we were in a furnished apartment. And who knows how long it’ll take to get it unpacked and all...”

“Oh,” Anne said, her eyes widening. “Oh no, it’ll be done by the time we get back to Yorktown. My agent will get it taken care of. Between Mason and the lawyers, all we’ll have to do is walk off the ship and into our apartment.” She laughed. “You didn’t think I did that for myself, did you? I would never have time to write again if I had to unpack furniture in every place I ever stayed.”

“Well that’s convenient,” Kirk said. “So we just… pick out what we want and send him a list?” He thought for a moment. “What if I want a gold plated bathtub?”

Anne snickered. “He would find one, but he'd raise his eyebrows at me. Mason’s one of those stuffy British sorts.”

“This has some distinct possibilities,” Kirk said. “Okay, how about an ostrich?”

“I am not feeding an ostrich. Besides, I hear they’re bad-tempered, and I won’t live with anything that has a worse temper than I do.”

Kirk eyed her skeptically. “But…?”

“As long as he could find one for sale in the area, then yes. It would be harder if we had to import it.” Obviously seeing that he wasn’t going to stop, Anne waited for his next question, trying to smother her smile.

“The British crown jewels?” he asked.

“Be reasonable,” Anne said. “He’s not superhuman. He’d get us a very good facsimile if we absolutely had to have them, though.”

“That’s fair.” Reasonable. Kirk tried to think of something hard but technically obtainable. “The sign for the Adam Yauch Park.” Anne blinked at him. “It’s in Brooklyn, I stumbled across it once.”

Slowly, Anne said, “Well, now that I know it exists, I can always ask. The shipping would take--” Her face suddenly blanched, her pupils blowing wide and her breathing speeding up.

Alarmed, Kirk sat up. “I’ll get Bones--”

Anne caught his hand before he could drop the padd, forcing her breathing to slow. “No. Give me that.” He could feel her fingers trembling, hear the strain in her voice and the faint blurring of her accent into something a little less American.

Abruptly, he realized she was reacting to the music. It had flipped to a different artist from the same era as before, a song with a lyric line that had to evoke some seriously bad memories for Anne. “Music off,” he snapped.

“Thanks,” she said, her breathing still unnaturally slow, her eyes a battle between terror and control. “Didn’t think of that.” Despite her attempt at a smile, she didn’t seem to be coming out of the panic attack. When he reached for his communicator, however, she shook her head. “It’s not critical. I just need to calm down.”

“Is there anything that would help?” he asked.

“Do something normal until it passes.” Licking her lips, Anne leaned toward the padd and made her shaking fingers switch the music back on, this time to part of a requiem by a German composer two centuries older than their previous selections. “I’m going to stretch. Look at the apartments.”

“At what point should I start being worried?” Kirk asked, watching her stand, her knees weak. He wasn’t sure she should be doing anything physical, but this wasn’t his area of expertise, and presumably she’d spoken to Claudia about this sort of thing. Well, it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye on her. He didn’t make an issue of it, but stood up with her, moving to lean against the back of the couch, out of the way of the most open section of the room.

“Give it ten minutes before you call anyone.” She paused in the center of the area, her back to him, and began to do what he assumed was a warm-up, one he’d never seen.

Kirk looked down, paging absently through the apartments she had pulled up, but none of them could hold his interest while she was so shaky. The warm-up routine that she started seemed automatic, however, her eyes faraway when she eventually turned, and her movements becoming less precarious-seeming. He was pretty sure it was ballet. Wasn’t exactly his forte. He tried not to pay too much attention, flipping through the apartments again, this time able to pay a little more attention to them.

By the time the lacrimosa had played through twice, her breathing was slowing and her movements were far firmer. They were also more complex, and he could see how she wasn’t quite getting them as well as she wanted to, a faint frown on her brow as she repeated things. Soon she stopped, falling back to flat feet and pacing back and forth for a few moments. Then paused, scowling, and rose to the balls of her feet… then further, balancing her entire weight on the tips of her toes. She only stayed that way for a moment before sinking back down. “I shouldn’t do that,” she muttered, her accent firmly back in place. “At least I can still do it.”

Deciding it was wiser not to comment, Kirk looked down at the padd in his hands. After a couple more moments, she came over to peek at the padd. “Find anything you like?” she asked.

“A couple of them look pretty good.” He gestured to the two he’d been flipping back and forth between. One of them had less floor space, but a larger balcony.

Of course, that was the one that Anne tapped. “That’s the one I would have wanted for myself. More windows. More room to grow things.”

At this point, he honestly had no idea how long he was going to be in Yorktown. They might not have to stay for all of the trials, but he was very sure it would be longer than the two week shore leave he’d anticipated, what with testifying and all the administrative work, not to mention the torpedo refit. Point being, she might very well have time to grow things after all, and there would be less furniture to have to worry about. Also, this one had a full bath, a sunken one big enough that there could be some definite advantages. “I think that one makes more sense for us, although it’s further from the Enterprise.”

“More of an excuse to ride your motorcycle,” Anne pointed out. “And it’s higher up, too. I’ll send a message to Mason about it.”

“He’ll need my authorization codes and voiceprint--”

“Don’t worry about it. I feel like splurging. Besides, I’ve had a whole year’s worth of credits piling up on me.” Anne snagged the padd from his hands and began to tap out a message on it.

“Fair’s fair, Anne,” he said, holding out his hand for her to return it.

“If it inconveniences me, I’ll let you make up for it with that lovely mouth of yours,” she said, and there was that smile that he’d missed, the one that was so strangely modest. He couldn’t help but appreciate the contrast with the boldness of her words.

“May I remind you that I would have done that anyway?” he asked. The idea was somewhat distracting.

She didn’t lose her smile, but he could see that it wasn’t quite as firmly on as he had thought. “Then let’s skip past the part where we start thinking about what we would have done on our own and all that, and just go right to the good parts.”

Suddenly, her point of view made sense. No point in second-guessing, no point in examining motives, not when all it would do was keep upcoming unpleasant truths foremost in mind. This was still going to end… but not yet. “All right, but I get to pick the silverware,” he said, grinning and dropping his hand. “I’m willing to fight for that one.”

“Oh, you’re killing me. Fine, but this had better be worth it,” she teased.

“You haven’t had any complaints so far,” he said smugly, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close.


End file.
